


Make Me Immortal With A Kiss

by mae428



Series: Poetry In Motion [3]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: I'll tag this later I promise, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mae428/pseuds/mae428
Summary: Part 3 of the Poetry in Motion Series starts the summer before Elio's junior year at Juilliard. He and Oliver have just marched in the 1986 New York City Pride Parade. Please read Parts 1 & 2 if you haven't already!





	1. He that loves pleasure must for pleasure fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack ;) Sorry it's taken me so long to get started on Part 3! I needed a bit of a break once I finished Part 2, and then I was struggling with what Part 3 would be about, but I'm excited to finally get it going. OH, and if you don't follow me on Tumblr/follow my other stories, I met Timmy THREE times last week (like, actually met him once. even got him to sign something for me. and I went to two screenings with Q&As for Beautiful Boy and even got to ask a question!!!) Okay anyway, I'm sure I've talked about it enough! Here we are, the start of Poetry in Motion: Part 3!

_Ring._

“Fuck.”

_Ring._

“Fuuuuuuck.”

_Ring._

“Oliver, you get it.”

_Ring._

“You’re the one who’s up.”

_Ring._

“So are you. Besides, I’m dead.”

_Ring._

“So am I.”

_Ring._

“If you answer, I’ll suck you off at work again.”

_Ring._

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

_Ring._

“Both.”

Oliver laughed and finally got out of bed. It took him a moment to actually stand after sitting up and I snuggled further under the covers, satisfied smile on my face as he shuffled out of the bedroom. We’d gone out with Jeffrey after the Pride Parade: a real proper night out with loud music and dancing and one too many shots. We were paying dearly for it the next morning, though. I was so hungover I could barely think straight, let alone open my eyes or answer the phone. We of course could have let the phone go to voicemail, but I had ulterior motives. Once Oliver was done on the phone, he’d probably make coffee and breakfast. Which meant breakfast in bed for me before going right back to sleep. I heard Oliver’s voice in the living room. He was chatting and laughing and I wondered how he could be so amiable considering he probably had a horrible headache.

“Baby?”

I groaned and pulled Oliver’s pillow over my head. If he wasn’t asking what I wanted for breakfast, there was no reason to answer.

“Babe?”

I still didn't reply, and a few moments later, Oliver was perched on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” he said, rubbing my back, “come into the living room. Someone wants to talk to you.”

I groaned again by way of response.

“C’mon, babe. It’s your parents. They want to say hi and give us some information ahead of their trip.”

My parents were due on the first to kick off July. I sighed and finally tossed aside Oliver’s pillow. That was a mistake, though, because our bedroom was far too bright for my liking. “Why’d you open the blinds?” My throat was sore and my voice was croaky and Oliver laughed at my expense. I pouted, but he swooped in and kissed me just as soon as I did.

“Come on. They want to talk to you. They miss you.”

I groaned and let Oliver tug me out of bed and into the living room. Every part of my body was sore and achey, especially my legs, which burned from our marching and from our subsequent partying. He sat me down on the couch and held the phone up to my ear for me. “Hullo?”

“Oh, tesoro.” My mom’s voice was soft and gentle. My dad just laughed.

“Hey,” I groaned, leaning into Oliver a bit, “don’t laugh at me.”

“Sorry, Elly-Belly,” my dad said, and I wished they were there too so that the four of us could snuggle up with coffee and be together. “What was it? Vodka?”

“You know me too well.” Oliver laughed and kissed the top of my head. “Why is everyone laughing at me?” I whined. I closed my eyes and turned my head so that I could press my face into Oliver’s armpit.

“Elly,” my dad said, laughter still evident in his voice, “we wanted to call and go over our flight information with you and Oliver.” They did so, giving us their date of arrival and flight times. We talked a bit more, about our plans for the two whole weeks they’d be in the city.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can we take them to the Center one day?”

“The Resource Center?” my mom asked and I smiled, almost forgetting they were still on the line. “We’d love to go, darling. We can finally meet Mark. And Jeffrey!”

“We’ll add it to the list.”

“And can we watch fireworks on the Fourth?” My words were a bit slurred and I pushed my face into Oliver’s shirt.

Oliver tugged gently at my curls. “We can. You sleepy?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled the phone away from my ear and I snuggled closer as he said goodbye to my parents. “Yeah, we’ll see you then. We can meet you at the airport...no, no, of course we will. Absolutely. See you then! I’ll tell him. Love you too, Mrs. P. Ciao.” Once Oliver hung up, his hands were back in my hair. “Do you want to go back to bed or do you want coffee.”

“Both.”

“How about breakfast? Do you want me to make you something? Bacon and eggs?”

My stomach churned at the thought of food. “Ugh, no.”

“Pancakes?”

“Oliver…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t -” My stomach swooped again and I was up in an instant, bolting to the bathroom.

“Elio?”

I flung myself onto the tile floor and threw the toilet seat up just in time to vomit into the bowl.

“Oh, Elio,” Oliver sighed from behind me. He combed my hair back, holding my curls as I continued to retch. After emptying the contents of my stomach, I dry heaved a few times before falling back against Oliver who was kneeling behind me. “You must feel better, huh?” Oliver asked, leaning over me to flush the toilet.

I dragged the back of my hand over my mouth and closed my eyes. “I’m never drinking ever again.”

“Aww, you’re alright.” Oliver’s voice was low and soothing and he rubbed gentle circles over my back. “What do you need?”

“My toothbrush.”

Instead, Oliver leaned down and kissed me, just a gentle press of lips, vomit breath and all. He helped me brush my teeth and clean the leftover glitter still on my face, then steered me right back into bed. “You’re to stay put until you feel better, got it? And as soon as you’re up we can try to have some toast.”

“Why is this happening to me?” I croaked, snuggling up under our comforter. “You’re the old one and you’re fine. I’m young. I’m spry. I shouldn’t be _this_ hungover.”

Oliver laughed and pushed my hair off my forehead. “Well, you _did_ have twice as many shots as I did last night, so that probably explains it.” He kissed the top of my head and leaned over to shut the blinds. “You want me to stay?”

“Yes, please.”

As soon as Oliver crawled into bed, I was asleep again, snoring into the pillow with my boyfriend’s arms around me.

When I woke up a few hours later, after freshening up, I tiptoed into the study where Oliver was perched at his desk. “Don’t tell me you’re already working on your syllabi for next semester.”

Oliver turned in his chair and grinned when he saw me in the doorway wearing nothing but boxers and one of his sweaters which hung off my shoulders. “No, I’m working on an itinerary for when your parents get here.” I made my way over and he pushed back from the desk to give me enough room. I perched on his lap and made myself quite comfortable. “Feeling better?”

“Very much. Thank you.”

Oliver wrapped his arms around me and perched his head on my shoulder. “How does my list look so far?”

I cleared my throat before reading off the items on his list. He covered all the basics: The Met, The Whitney, some new restauratns we’d been meaning to try as well as some old favorites. He’d listed a few Broadway shows we’d wanted to see, adding a parenthetical that he had to look into tickets, and he’d also remembered to put down a trip to the Resource Center.

“I think that all sounds fantastic,” I said once I finished reading it over. I beamed and kissed Oliver’s cheek. “They love you, you know,” I said of my parents. Ever since Oliver’s mom passing away, ever since his dad hitting him, I made sure to remind Oliver often about how much my parents cared for him.

“I know.” He pushed his face into my neck and inhaled. “I know they do. I’m very thankful for your family, Elio. So lucky to have them. And you.”

“ _Especially_ me.”

“Yes, my darling brat, especially you.”

“Hey! I’m not a brat!”

“Mhm, sure. Whatever you say.” He kissed a line along my neck and I knew he was tracing my freckles with his lips. He loved to do that, so I tilted my head to the side and indulged him for a few minutes. “You think you can stomach some breakfast?”

“I think so.”

“Good, because I’m starving.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me to eat, you know.”

“I didn’t, I already had breakfast. But I’m fucking hungry.”

“You’re an absolute brute,” I accused, kissing him quickly before hopping off his lap and practically scampering off to the kitchen.

Our first four weeks of summer vacation had been absolute bliss. The temperatures in June had already peaked at a warm 80 and I knew it would only get warmer from there. It seemed that Pride the day before had really set us in motion for summer, though. The high was 85, but a warm breeze followed us down Fifth avenue. The sky was bright blue and clear and I hoped that every day during the summer of 1986 would be just as beautiful.

“God, my legs are _still_ sore,” I complained a full two days later. My parents were arriving the next afternoon so we were out grocery shopping. Although we were sure we’d be eating out for nearly every meal, Oliver and I were planning on hosting dinner once or twice during their two-week stay. Luckily they booked a hotel closer to our apartment than they did last time, which afforded us more time to relax at home with them. I looked forward to that, to the time we couold all sit together with a book or a drink or a smoke, harkening back to younger, simpler, freer, easier times.

“Same,” Oliver said, using the grocery card like a walker. “Remind me why we went out with Jeffrey again?”

“Becuase it was fun as fuck, but _Jesus_. I feel like I’m 90.”

“You said it, babe.”

I let Oliver do most of the grocery shopping, as he was the main chef at home. I picked out a few side dishes, but my main forte was snacks.

“You never used to eat this stuff in Italy,” Oliver said as I tossed a package of Oreos and a huge jar of peanut butter into the cart.

“That’s because we didn’t have this in Italy. Oh, I need Nutella!”  
  
“You can put peanut butter on your toast, Elio.”

“No, the peanut butter is for the Oreos,” I corrected, mock-aghast ad Oliver’s ignorance.

“What about some fruit?”  
  
“Yes, definitely. But in addition to my junk food. Trying to tell me I’m getting fat?”

“No, you could actually stand to gain a few pounds.” He pinched my side and I giggled, a sound which quickly died as Oliver tugged me close. I was glad we were in a more sequestered aisle, but my heart still thrummed at Oliver’s boldness. “You’ve got quite a sweet tooth, don’t you?”

“Only for you,” I whispered, our lips just a hairdsbreath apart. Oliver leaned in for just a quick kiss before pulling back. “Fine, well if you’re getting Oreos, I’m getting Nilla Waifers.”

“Ugh, really? Those are so _boring_.”

“Clearly my palate is more refined than yours,” Oliver bragged, puffing out his chest a bit. I rolled my eyes and flicked his arm and we went on our way through the aisles.

As we put away the groceries later, Oliver tapped me on the shoulder. I turned from where I was practically waist deep in our fridge, trying to make room for our newly purchased produce. “What?” I asked immediately after one look at the sly grin on his face.

He produced a peach from behind his back, one of the few we’d picked up at the grocery. “Would you ever do this for me again?”

“Oliver, that was _three years_ ago. I don’t mind you teasing me about it, but I was young. I didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted - I wanted you, and now I have you.”

“Yes, but I’m not teasing.” He took a step forward and I had to tilt my head back to look at him. “I want you to. I want to watch you do it. I want to eat it again.”

“Oliver, I -”

He kissed me and then stepped back, placing the peach ever so gingerly next to its brothers in our fruit basket. “Think about it. Could be fun.”

And think about it I did. All through lunch, all through our afternoon walk in the park, all through our siesta on the couch. I flushed at the thought of doing it again, but moreso at the memory of the fruit around my cock. The squelching wetness as I removed the pit. The musty attic. The music on the radio. Oliver eating it afterward, peach juice and my come dribbling over his lip. That tongue, that mouth. How I loved having him over and over again. I wished to go back in time. I wished I could go back and tell my younger self that it would be fine. That yes, Oliver would go. He would leave, but I’d make my way back to him. I wanted to reassure my own self that years down the line, we’d be together but our same old selves. Still sick and depraved and thinking only of pre-cock apri-cock  _cock cock cock_.

“Oliver,” I said, putting down my book. He looked like he was halfway between dozing and reading so I nudged him with my foot.

“Hmm?”

“I want you to eat me out.” That perked him up almost instantly. I tossed my book aside and stripped off my teeshirt. He threw his book down and was on me in a second. I wriggled underneath him as I struggled a bit to take off my jeans.

“What brought this on?” he asked as he kissed down my chest. He licked a line from one freckle to the other and I whimpered. 

  
“Just thinking about you. About the peach. About us.”

Oliver stood and knelt on the floor, helping me to kneel on the couch. He stripped me of my jeans and boxers before spreading my cheeks with his palms. I groaned and pressed my hips back into his hands. I loved how big he was, how he could fully envelop me with just five fingers. He leaned in and lapped ever so gently over my hole. “God, you know how much I love this,” he sighed, soundlng completely blissed out already.

“Less talking more licking,” I pleaded as I let my head come to rest on my arms which were folded over the back of the couch.

“Yes, sir,” Oliver teased. But my cock throbbed at that and I thrust my ass back against Oliver’s face. He laughed, but got the memo and quickly went back to work.

“Ah, Jesus…” He lapped over my twitching hole over and over, hands firmly on my ass as he did so. After a few short minutes, Oliver pressed his tongue inside me and I cried out, rocking my hips back a bit more. I could feel his spit dripping between my ass and balls and my cock leaked onto our couch at the sound of his delighted moans. I was about to bring my hand down around my cock when -

_Ring._

“Fuck.”

 _Ring_.

“Oliver…”

_Ring._

“Just let it go to voicemail. Whoever it is can leave a message.” Oliver went straight back to the task at hand and we let the phone ring until the machine clicked. But whoever it was didn’t leave a message. I went back to concentrating on the feel of Oliver’s tongue inside me, his lips working against my skin.

_Ring._

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

_Ring._

“Why didn’t they just leave a message?”

_Ring._

Oliver pulled back and nipped at my asscheek. “Hey, you know what would be fun? Why don’t you answer it and I’ll keep doing this.”

_Ring._

“You’re disgusting.”

_Ring._

“But you love it. Go on. Answer.”

_Ring._

“Fine.” I leaned over and picked up the receiver just as Oliver buried his face between my cheeks. “Uhh...hullo?”

“Elio?” It was a woman. She sounded familiar, but I couldn't really place the voice, not with Oliver’s tongue up my asshole.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Elio, salut! It’s Marzia.”

“Marzia! Marzia, _fuck_ , hi.”

“Is this a, uh...bad time or something?"

“No, no. This is...fine.” Oliver ducked his head to lick a stripe from behind my balls back up to my hole. “What’s up?”

“Well, I just spoke to your parents and they told me they’re visiting you. I’m in Crema, by the way. The weather is just gorgeous here.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mmh, oui. Well, I was thinking about coming to visit too, maybe during the second week that your parents are there. I know that’s only a week from now, so I would have to book a ticket, but I can also come later in the summer.”

I grinned at the thought of Marzia coming to visit and was instantly transported back to the few days we spent together before I left for New York. We’d gone through my book on the city about eight hundred times, circling nearly everything. I’d done most of those things over the course of my two years in New York, and was instatnly filled with giddy excitement at showing Marzia around. “That sounds great. I’ll have to uh - Check with Oliver on dates.” Speaking of Oliver, he was back to my hole, now pressing a spit slicked finger in along side his tongue. He must’ve sucked on it.

“Oui. I’ve missed you so much, Elio.”

“And I you.” We exchanged letters often, more often than we spoke on the phone since we had very different schedules. It’d been a year since I’d seen her in person and I couldn’t wait to have her there on our turf in New York. Suddenly, Oliver wrapped his arm around me, his hand finding my cock hanging hard and heavy between my legs. “Look, Marzia,” I said, voice a bit shakey, “I’ve gotta -”

“Is the weather nice there too? You mother said it’s very hot in New York.”  
  
“It is, yeah. Can I -”

“I’ll have to buy some new summer clothes before I come. Maybe Chiara can lend me some things. Oh Elio, you’ve _got_ to come to Milan in the winter. Your maman said you might. The fashion scene there has really exploded, I think you and Oliver could find some really good pieces to bring back to New York.”

And this was when I absolutely hated having such a loquacious friend. “Marzia,” I said, very nearly letting out a groan of Oliver’s name as he swept his thumb over the leaking head of my cock. She immediately shut up and I breathed a sigh of relief. “I need to go. Uh, I’ve got dinner in the oven. I’ll talk to Oliver about dates, alright?”

“Oh, Elio, why didn’t you say something? Yes, go. I’ll talk to you later. Câlins et bisous.”

“Love you. Bye.” I slammed down the phone so hard I was afraid I cracked it, but what did I care with Oliver’s hand around my cock and his tongue and finger up my ass. “Fuck, right fucking there,” I sighed, rocking my hips _back_ into Oliver's mouth and _forward_ into his hand. My legs began to shake. A shiver ran down my back. My skin prickled. I came just a moment later, spilling all over the couch cushion, moaning Oliver’s and my own name over and over like a prayer.

Once I finished coming, he slowly pulled his finger free and nipped at the spot where my thigh met my ass. “That was fucking gorgeous.”

“Fuck,” I managed between labored breaths. I hung my head, trying to regain some composure. “Shit, Ol. Can you get me a wet cloth?”

Oliver didnt do that, though. He just stood up and flipped me over so that I was laying on the couch, naked and spread for him. He came to stand between my legs and unzipped his pants faster than I’d ever seen. He began jerking off, looking down at me through hooded eyes. I grinned up at him, my lover, my boyfriend, and wiggled a little on the couch. “Stay just like that for me.”

“Like what you see?” I purred, dragging my fingers over my chest.

“You know I do.”

My torso was soon met with Oliver’s come, hot and sticky over my skin. “Love you,” I murmured as I rubbed his come over my tummy, effectively smearing it all over my skin.

“You are a gift,” Oliver said, surging down to kiss me. “An absolute gift.”

“I know I am.” I kissed him again, a bit slower as both our heartrates went back to normal. “Marzia wants to come visit.”

“I gathered.”

“Should we have her come during the last week my parents are here? Or later in the summer.”

“Up to you.” Oliver kissed my forehead before going into the kitchen to finally grab a washcloth.

“That better not stain,” I said as he began wiping my come off the cushion. “Maybe after my parents,” I finally said, trying to hide how selfish that made me feel. “So we can spend time just with them.”

“We can call her in the morning. Your parents don’t get in until 3.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I snatched the washcloth once Oliver was done with the couch to wipe off my stomach before I stood and stretched out my long limbs. Oliver looked up at me from his perch on the couch, grinning like a madman. “What?”

“Nothing, just like looking at you is all.”

“You look crazy.”

“C’mere, you.” Oliver reached out, grabbed me by the waist, and pulled me down onto his lap, tickling me until I was crying with laughter. If the first month was anything to go by, it was shaping up to be a wonderful summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, I know, but I'm very excited for this part :) Comments/Kudos/Criticisms/Ideas always welcome!
> 
> If you want to hear more about meeting Timmy, [Follow Me On Tumblr](https://all-things-all-the-time.tumblr.com/) because I've posted FAR too many pictures lol. Also, we can scream about these boys!!! :)


	2. That perfect bliss and sole felicity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, am I right?! It's been crazy. Work has been actually INSANE (if we've chatted about where I work on Tumblr, you know why!). My birthday and Halloween were this past week, so that was a flurry of activity! Just yeah...busy to say the least. But the second chapter is here!
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful and very dear friend TimIDinMyHeart for keeping me sane, especially over the past 24 hours.

As promised, we met my parents at the airport the next afternoon. As soon as they made it through customs, Oliver and I were both wrapped up in tight, vice-like hugs.

“Oh my darlings,” my mother whispered into my hair, “I’ve missed you so much.”

My dad and Oliver both broke out of the hug, but I stayed in my mother’s arms. “Mamma,” I sighed as I pressed my nose into her neck. I hadn’t seen them in so long, an entire _year_ , and I never wanted to leave my mom’s arms.

“Come, my love,” she said, patting my back before pulling away. I whined, but she stroked my curls and I nearly fell into her arms again. “We can catch up on the ride to the hotel.”

We accompanied my parents to the Belleclaire, one of the swankier hotels near our apartment. They had gone all out and booked a suite for their two-week stay, complete with a large bedroom and an adjoining sitting room, and I immediately made myself comfortable on the couch. I made grabby hands at Oliver who rolled his eyes but sat down next to me.

“Hi,” he said, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close against him. I hummed and snuggled up next to Oliver as my eyes drooped shut. I was still exhausted from Pride and I used the few minutes my parents took to freshen up to rest.

“So,” my father said when they finally joined us in the little sitting room, “how was Pride? Tell us all about it.”

I immediately perked up, accidentally elbowing Oliver in the ribs in the shuffle. “Oh, Papà, it was  _incredible_. There were hundreds of people on the streets watching us march.”

“And the weather was amazing too,” Oliver added. He rearranged himself on the couch and put his hand on my thigh. I smiled at him and covered his hand with my own. “It was overwhelming, to say the least. But in the best way possible.”

“I wish we could have been there,” my mom said as she came into the sitting room, dressed impeccably in a fresh skirt and blouse.

My dad pulled my mom down onto his lap. “Next year. Tell us more, Elly-Belly. We want to hear everything.”

Oliver and I took turns telling my parents all about our Sunday adventure, even filling them in on most of what we got up to at the clubs after marching.

“You must’ve been dead on your feet.” My mom kissed my father and then stood, coming over to kiss both me and Oliver on the crowns of our heads.

“A bit,” I said, glad to see Oliver getting some maternal affection. My mom sat down on Oliver’s other side and looped her arm through his.

“Tell me, tesoro,” she cooed, “how was the end of the semester?” Oliver and my mom immediately launched into a conversation about his students, so I turned back to my dad. He told me about his own classes before filling me in on the latest gossip in Crema and Milan.

Soon enough, it was time for dinner, and we all left the hotel together to head to our reservation. Dinner was a flurry of conversation, half in English, half in Italian.

“Elly,” my dad said over our main courses, “you’ve submitted everything for your competitions, right?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I should have known this was coming. “ _Yes_ , Papà,” I said, with a bit more heat than necessary. Over the course of the last semester, I’d met often with Professor Kuznetsov to discuss my career. With his encouragement, I’d decided on trying my hand at becoming a concert pianist. That meant I really had to jump on the competition bandwagon, though, as most professionals had a few under their belt by this point.

“Alright, alright.” My dad held up his hands as if warding off a feral beast. “I was just asking.”

I pouted, and my scowl only deepened when Oliver dropped his hand to my thigh beneath the table. “Yeah, but you ask all the time. And so does Oliver. And so does Professor Kuznetsov.”

“We just want to make sure you don’t miss any opportunities.”

“I won’t. The Chopin Competition is in October and I should find out in about a week if I got in. And the Queen Elisabeth isn’t until May, so it’ll be a while before I hear back from them. You already know all of this.”

“Okay, Elio,” Oliver murmured, squeezing my knee as a signal to shut up or to at least be a bit nicer.

“No, it’s actually really annoying. You ask me about it  _constantly_. You ask the same questions over and over again.”

“Babe.”

“Don’t think you’re exempt from this,” I said, turning to Oliver.

“Elio! Don’t talk to Oliver like that.”

I huffed and picked up my fork again to just push the food around on my plate. I didn’t want to admit that I was nervous about the competitions. It seemed that my entire future was dependent on the results. A bad score meant no career, which meant disappointment from my family and friends and, most importantly, Oliver. My stomach lurched at that thought. I couldn't let Oliver down. I just couldn't. And the more they asked me about the competitions, the more nervous it made me.

“Forget I asked,” my dad said. I looked up from under my lashes to see that both of my parents were watching me with soft eyes. They could probably sense my nervousness and I suddenly hated myself for snapping at them.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” my mother soothed. Oliver squeezed my thigh and I had to take a few deep breaths before I could get back to my meal.

After dinner and dessert, we walked my parents back up to their hotel, making plans to meet for a late breakfast and then a trip to the Met the next day. As soon as we were back at the apartment, Oliver immediately brought up the competitions again.

“Look, if you don’t want to do this you don’t want to,” he said as we remade our bed together with clean sheets.

“But I  _have_ to.”

“You don’t.”

“If I want to be a concert pianist I do.”

“Sure, but you don’t have to be a concert pianist.” Oliver was being far too reasonable.

“What else would I be?”

“Elio, I hope you’re not doing this just because you feel you have to.”

I groaned and rounded the bed so that I could fall into Oliver’s chest. “I want to. I do.” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes, I want to do this. I love playing, and I love playing for other people. I want to do it professionally.”

Oliver wrapped an arm around my waist. “Good. I just want you to be happy. You know that, baby, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He pulled back to kiss me quickly. He tasted like crème brûlée, as he always did when we went out to dinner, and I wanted to stay there forever. “Now, let’s finish making this bed. I’m exhausted.”

The first two days of my parents’ visit were spent at local restaurants and at the new exhibits at both the Met and MoMa. We relaxed and took it easy as my parents got over their jetlag and in preparation for our busy day on the Fourth of July.

That Friday, my parents met us at our apartment for early morning bagels and coffee. The four of us read over the newspaper as we ate, and I smiled to myself as my parents easily integrated themselves into our daily routine.

“Alright, we ought to go,” Oliver said after he cleared our plates. He came to stand behind me and kissed the top of my head. “Are you sure you guys want to come?”

“Of course!” My mother folded up her section of the newspaper. “We’ve been wanting to meet Jeffrey and Mark for so long now.”

“Yeah, but we can always do dinner with them or something. You don’t have to come to the Center.”

“Nonsense, we want to.” My dad stood and clapped Oliver’s shoulder. “You boys have been doing well there. We want to see you in action.”

As soon as we arrived at the center, Jeffrey immediately descended upon my parents. “Oh! The famous Samuel and Annella!” he cried as he kissed their cheeks. “I’ve heard so very much about you. All good things, of course”

“And us you.” My mother patted his shoulder and then cupped his cheek. “You are doing such incredible work. Please, show us around.”

"Well, I hope you heard some naughty things about me too!" Jeffrey stuck out his arm and my mother took it, but he raised his brows. “I was offering my arm to the esteemed Professor, but I suppose I can be seen with a gorgeous woman on my arm once in my life.”

My parents both laughed and my father even took Jeffrey’s arm. They set off down the hall together, Jeffrey between my mother and father as he began their tour. Oliver and I shared an amused look before setting off to start our shift.

Jeffrey and my parents met up with us a while later after we’d finished our first round. “So, what do you think?” I asked as I restocked our cart with juice boxes and straws.

“Incredible.” My dad began helping me with my cart. “The facility itself is amazing. And Jeffrey tells me you’re opening up another building.”

“In about a month.” I turned around at the new voice and absolutely beamed as Mark came into the kitchen. “Samuel and Annella, I presume.”

“The very same.” My father shook Mark’s hand, but my mom pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered, “thank you for being there for our sons.” Oliver stiffened a bit at that, but when I turned to him, he looked totally fine.

“Oh, Annella, it’s my pleasure. They’re fantastic boys.” Mark kissed her cheek and pulled back. “Is Jeffrey putting you two to work?”

“We’re more than happy to stay the rest of the afternoon,” my dad said as he got back to stacking juices. “We haven’t any plans until this evening.”

And so we did. Jeffrey and my mother spoke about drag at length, Jeffrey even going so far as to plan a shopping trip with her during her stay. Mark and my father spoke mostly of different religious texts. These conversations left me and Oliver mostly to ourselves as we pushed our own cart down one of the quieter hallways.

“Thanks for letting them visit for so long.”

“Of course, Elio. You know I love them too.”

“I know.” I rubbed the back of my neck as Oliver prepared a tray to leave by a sleeping patient’s bedside. “Sorry mom called you...you know.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You don’t seem to mind anything.”

Oliver snorted. “You know that’s a lie.”

“Hm, I suppose. You are pretty picky.” I laughed as Oliver swept me up into a kiss.

“Truly, I don’t mind. I never felt like I had parents until I met yours. I was jealous of you at first. But then the way they accepted me so quickly… I would sometimes pretend they were my own.” He wrapped his arms tight around my waist and I sagged against him.

“They can be, you know. Your own. You can call them Mamma and Papà if you want. They wouldn’t mind.”

“I dunno…”

“Really!” I laughed and gently punched at his chest. “You can. You heard Mamma. You’re already her bambino. You have been since the day she laid eyes on you and you know it.”

“Maybe.” Oliver sounded so hesitant, so wary, so I pressed onto my tiptoes to kiss him.

“We’re your family now, Oliver,” I whispered against his lips, “and you’re my everything. My brother, my friend, my father, my son, my husband, my lover.”

“Oliver…”

“Elio.” I kissed him again, very gently, and then brushed my nose against his. “Come on, back to work.”

As promised, we spent the rest of the afternoon helping out at the center. My dad got roped into a few card games with Alejandro and his crew and my mom spent some time on the family floor playing with a father and his two baby girls. Oliver and I were working in the kitchen when Mark came by to say hello and lend a hand.

“Oh! Mark, I actually have a question for you.”

“What’s up, Oliver?”

Oliver hesitated and I nudged his side. “Um, maybe we could talk in private?”

I furrowed my brows. What was that about?

“Sure.” Mark put away the plates I’d just dried and Oliver rinsed off his soapy hands. They went out into the rec room to talk, huddled close on a couch. I watched them for a moment with a pout, wondering what Oliver wanted to ask him about.

That evening, we were invited over to David, Grant, and Michael’s apartment on the Upper East Side. They had a perfect view of the fireworks from their rooftop garden, so they decided to host a little fête. Sharon and Debs were, of course, in attendance, as well as a few of Oliver’s other friends from NYU. When we arrived, the party was already in full swing, complete with buckets of beer and a small grill set up in the far corner of the rooftop. We introduced my parents to everyone and we were soon equipped with beers and hot dogs.

To say that the boys were infatuated with my parents was an understatement. As soon as Grant was done on the grill, the three of them latched onto my Mamma and Papà, asking a million questions about Italy. I just laughed and tugged Oliver over to the girls where we easily joined their conversation about the upcoming midterm elections.

I’d never before participated in Fourth of July activities, nor had my parents, and I was amazed at the passion everyone seemed to have for the United States, especially given the political climate.

“Never knew people loved the US so much,” I murmured as Oliver wrapped his arm around my waist.

“We don’t until the Fourth of July. And then everyone dons their red white and blue, chugs cheap American beer, and eats too many hot dogs.”

I looked over at my parents, who now each had sparkly red and blue headbands on. “I think they’re ready to immigrate,” I mock whispered.

Oliver laughed and jostled me a little against his side. We were both tipsy and wore matching grins. “Oh no, we need to keep the distance as is,” he whispered back. “If they’re here they’ll start bugging us about getting married and moving out to Long Island and your mom would ask us for grandkids every day, wouldn’t she?”

“Quando mi darai i nipotini?” I said in a mock high-pitched voice, at which we both erupted into more giggles. It was fun to pretend we were a normal couple, even just for a few minutes. “My dad wouldn’t be any better, though.”

“God, no. He’d probably be  _worse_.”

“And what are you two laughing at?” We turned to see my mom standing behind us, hands on her hips.

“Nothing, Mamma,” I said between my snickers. She just kissed both our cheeks before grabbing another beer for my father.

As soon as the fireworks started, we all rushed over to the edge of the rooftop and, after a bit of shuffling and elbowing, I secured my spot with Oliver pressed up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and perched his chin on the top of my head. I hummed and relaxed back against him, completely at ease. I felt a sudden burst of gratitude towards everyone at the party. They were all so accepting of us, even those we’d only just met. As I watched the fireworks, I let myself imagine that we really could lead a normal life: a wedding, babies, maybe a vacation home. My mom, who was next to me, put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. My father was behind her, mirroring mine and Oliver’s position. I sighed again, happy and tipsy and sated and surrounded by everyone I loved most.

My parents started acting cagey a week later, halfway through their visit. I was trying to make plans with them, desperate to make the most of every moment. “Mamma, you’re only here for one more week! We still have so much to do!”

“Elly, I’m sorry, tesoro. Papà and I would like to do some shopping while we’re here.”

“Why can’t I come with you?” I knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I couldn’t help it.

“How about you and Oliver spend the day together? I’m sure he’ll come up with something fun for you to do. We can meet up for dinner tonight. How’s that sound.”

I huffed and pouted, but acquiesced. “Fine.”

“Bene. Now go spend time with Oliver. We’ll see you later. Ciao, bambino.”

“Ciao, Mamma.” I hung up the phone and flung myself onto the couch with a dramatic groan. “ _Now_ what are we gonna do?”

“How about we go for a bike ride?” Oliver emerged from the kitchen, still just in his pajama pants, holding two mugs of coffee. I shifted a little on the couch, angling my body so that my hip bones pushed out. I knew how much Oliver loved holding and kissing me there, so I wriggled a bit more to get my pants lower around my waist. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“You look good like that,” I said, cocking my head as I looked up at him. I pushed a hand down my boxers, palming at my rapidly hardening cock.

“Elio…”

“What?”

“I’m gonna -”

“No! Stay like that. Stay right there.” I loved the way he looked, pants low on his hips, chest hair on full display, his Star of David nestled right where it always was. I wanted to lick the hollow of his throat, kiss over his collarbones, bite at those gorgeous nipples. I wanted to sink into him and never come out.

“Can I at least put the coffee down?”

“No.” I was already panting as I thrust up into my hand. “God, Oliver. So gorgeous.”

“Lemme see you, then.” He disobeyed my request and put the coffees down, but that was okay because he was soon shoving his own hand down his pants. “Let me see, baby.”

I shimmied out of my boxers, letting them bunch around my knees. It was enough though, enough to put me on full display. We just stared at each other, jacking off, strangled moans and stuttered breaths the only sounds in the apartment. “Oliver…” I arched my back as my muscles began jumping under my skin. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m close.”

In a flash, Oliver was on the couch between my legs. He swatted my hand out of the way and wrapped his lips over my cock. I shoved my hands into his hair and tugged hard just as I pushed my hips up. Oliver’s mouth was so warm and so wet and so incredibly perfect around me that I was coming just a few minutes later. My orgasm left me a shuddering mess on the couch, my entire body twitching as Oliver cleaned me up with little kitten licks along my cock.

“Where do you want me, baby?” he asked, voice already a bit ruined from just having swallowed me down.

“Want the same.” I was glad Oliver understood me, even when I was mostly incoherent. He moved up the couch and settled himself over my chest. I pushed up a little so that I could seal my lips around the head of his cock. I suckled a bit, looking up at him from under my lashes.

“Fuck, Elio. So pretty like that with my cock in your mouth. You like that, baby? Like taking me like this?” I groaned around him and he cradled the back of my head as he pushed in a bit deeper. Oliver used me like that, his cock sliding over my tongue like velvet, his large hands holding my head up, until he came down my throat. I only choked a little bit, but I recovered quickly, making sure to swallow everything Oliver gave.

When he kissed me after, he shoved his tongue into my mouth, as if trying to comingle each other’s come.

I wanted to lounge in bed all day, but Oliver convinced me to get out for a bike ride through Central Park. We ended up a bit further North than we’d intended, so we got sandwiches from a deli and had lunch in the grass under the warm summer sun.

“Alright, so we have Marzia coming to visit in August, right?”

“Mmhm.” I finished the last bite of my sandwich and then settled with my head in Oliver’s lap. His fingers immediately sunk into my curls.

“You have anything you wanna do this summer?”

“Not in particular. Just be with you. Spend time with our friends.” I took my sunglasses up and squinted up at him. “You?”

“Hm...we could take a trip to Governor’s Island one day. Maybe go out to the beach a few times. But I think I’d really just like to fuck you as much as possible.”

“Professor Stern!” I clutched my heart, mock-aghast. “How lascivious!”

“Oh, you don’t even know the  _half_ of it.”

“Tell me more. Perhaps I’ll be more agreeable.” And so he did. Oliver detailed every fantasy he had for our summer, and it was clear we had a very packed schedule. “Please take me home,” I begged a while later. I’d been half hard the whole time, desperate for Oliver to make good on his words.

He checked his watch and his lips twitched into a small smile. “It’s four. I think we can head back.” We raced each other through the park all the way back to our apartment, and Oliver only beat me by a second.

“You totally cheated,” I panted as we locked up our bikes in our building’s basement storage.

“How could I have cheated? We were biking on the same streets.”

“I dunno...but you did.”

Oliver just rolled his eyes and kissed me, sweaty forehead and all.

When we made it up to our apartment, Oliver stopped me in front of the door. “Hold on,” he said, positioning his key in the lock. He then moved behind me and clasped his hand over my eyes.

“Hey! What the fuck, Ol?”

“There’s a surprise for you inside.”

“What did you do?”

“You’re gonna like it! I know you are.”

I could hear some indistinct chatter in our apartment and I strained to figure out who was in there. “Oliver…”

“Just. Hold on.” I heard him fumbling with the keys for a bit before he pushed the front door open. He guided me in, still with his hand over my eyes. As we shuffled forward, I tried to position myself in the apartment, but I just couldn’t figure out where we were standing. I huffed and Oliver gently pinched my arm with his free hand. “Shush you.” There was a bit of movement to my left and I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Alright. One...Two...Three!”

On three, Oliver lifted his hand and I blinked my eyes open. There, next to my beaming parents, was a gorgeous upright piano. I immediately felt sick.

“No. No, no, no.”

My mother’s smile fell a bit. “Don’t you like it, tesoro?”

“Oh God, like it?” I approached the piano very slowly, as if it were an explosive. “God, I love it.” I brushed my fingers over the fallboard, leaving behind a small trail on the laminated hardwood. “But I, I can’t. It’s too much. Far too much.” I startled when I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to find Oliver watching me with concern.

“We want you to have it,” my father said. “Think of this as your belated birthday gift.”

“Far too much,” I said again, looking back down at the keys. I wanted to play so desperately, but didn’t want to ruin the piano at all. Perhaps my parents could bring it back, get a refund.

“We’ll roll it into your Hanukkah gift too.”

“You deserve this, my darling Elio,” Oliver whispered against my ear. I closed my eyes and leaned into him. “It’ll be easier to have it here. You won’t have to go to the practice rooms at school. And I want to hear you play.” He kissed the spot just behind my ear. “Play for me. Please.”

I dropped my hand to the keys, letting my finger fall onto a random one. A perfectly in tune D note rang out and I shivered. I had to take a few deep breaths before I could look at my parents again.

“Thank you.” I surged forward and wrapped them each in a tight hug. “Thank you so much for this.” It was the best gift I’d ever received, besides Oliver. Since moving, I sometimes felt like there was something missing. It nagged at me, only occasionally, mostly when I woke up before Oliver or while I was left to my own devices as he cooked dinner. I could never quite figure out what it was, but now that the piano was sitting in our living room, I finally realized that was what I needed all along.

I needed to make music, to fill our home with my own compositions, my transcriptions, Daniel’s compositions, pop music, classical, anything I could get my hands on.

“You’re welcome, my darling.”

“Play it often. And think of us when you do.”

“I will, Papà. Lo giuro. I promise.”

I suddenly rounded on Oliver. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

He blushed and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Don’t play coy with me, Stern.”

“Alright, alright. I did. I helped them pick it out, actually.”

“Oliver did most of the work,” my mom chimed in. “Went down to the store to pick one that would fit and work with your furniture.”

“Bastardo subdolo.”

“Elio!”

“Sorry, Mamma!” I strode over to Oliver and flung my arms around his neck. “Thank you. So much.”

“Now you have to teach me how to play. No more excuses.”

I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the fact that there was now a piano in our living room. My parents and my boyfriend believed in my career choice, believed in  _me_ , enough to put this all together.

Oliver kissed my cheek before I pulled back. I stared down at the piano, which, although the living room seemed just a bit smaller now, fit perfectly against the back wall. I bounced on my toes a bit as I took in the smooth wood and pristine keys.

“Go on, tesoro. We know how much you must want to play.”

I jumped at that chance, immediately pulling out the bench and making myself comfortable at the keys. I thought for a few seconds before I started playing, a gently flowing piece with soft notes and arpeggios. Oliver stood behind me as I played and my parents stayed next to the piano, wrapped up in one another through the entire piece. The piano played like a dream, the pedals yielding easily beneath my feet, the keys springing back as I hit them.

“What was that?” Oliver asked once I was finished.

“One of Daniel’s.” I tipped my head back to lean against Oliver’s stomach. He wiped at my cheeks and it was only then I realized I’d started crying. “I’ve never played it. I’ve just read it. I don’t think it’s totally finished, but…”

“Maybe you can finish it for him.”

I nodded at my dad’s suggestion and reached up for Oliver’s hand. He threaded our fingers together and squeezed. “Thank you. All of you. So much.”

I had so much to be thankful for, and I wasn’t sure I could ever put into words how grateful I was to have my parents and Oliver. But I vowed to play that piano every single day, even just for a few minutes, in my own little way of sending my thank yous out into the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Criticisms/Ideas always welcome! Updates on all my works to come soon!!
> 
> [Follow Me On Tumblr](https://all-things-all-the-time.tumblr.com/) so we can scream about these boys/whatever floats ya boat!!! :)


	3. Goodness is beauty in the best estate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK I'm so embarrassed that it took me A MONTH to update this. I'm so so so sorry. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me! Keep sticking -- I've got good things coming across all fics! My job gets really busy around the holiday times, but I should have some more free time soon (lol how many times have i said that).
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this update!

As predicted, I heard from the International Chopin Competition the day after my parents gifted me the piano. Oliver and I stumbled into our building that night after an entire day out with my parents. We’d gone out to dinner and to a few bars afterward and, needless to say, had more than our fair share of drinks.

“Gotta check the mail,” I slurred as we stumbled into the building. I’d been waiting on my letter from the Chopin Competition and was eager to see if I’d gotten anything.

Oliver groaned and draped himself over my back. “C’mon,” he whined, “I wanna go upstairs. We can check tomorrow.”

I managed to open the little mailbox door, even with Oliver kissing over the back of my neck. I huffed as I flipped through advertisements and coupons and bills until I  _ finally _ got to the small package at the bottom of the pile. I shoved everything else back into our mailbox and tore open the envelope, scanning over the letter as quickly as possible.

“Oliver…” My voice sounded faint and far away. “Oliver!”

“What?” Oliver paused his kisses in order to perch his chin on my shoulder so that he could read the letter too. “Holy shit, Elio. You got in!”

The next thing I knew, I was up off the ground, in Oliver’s arms, as he spun me around in the too small hallway. My yelp quickly turned to laughter as we spun around and when he finally put me down we were both breathless and grinning.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me, right there in the front hall. I fisted his shirt between my fingers, pulling him even closer to me. We stayed there for a few minutes, wrapped up in one another, before Oliver pulled back. “Let’s get upstairs.”

I retrieved our keys from the mailbox, as well as the rest of our mail and hopped after Oliver into the elevator. I was so elated that I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I was  _ actually _ accepted into the International Chopin Competition, one of the most prestigious piano competitions. Sure I was nervous for all of the grueling practicing that would ensue over the next few months, but overall I was overwhelmingly excited.

“I can’t believe it,” I said as I let us into our apartment. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or my newfound happiness. I looked down at the letter again, the undeniable proof right there in my hands. “I need to call my parents.”

“It’s late and we’re drunk,” Oliver said, plucking the mail out of my hands and leaving it on the couch. “Come to bed instead.”

I  _ was _ drunk, and easily swayed, so I padded after Oliver into our bedroom. As soon as the door was shut, Oliver was practically ravaging me, pulling my clothes off and kissing my neck at the same time. “Oliver,” I sighed, tipping my head back and letting him do his work until I was fully naked. “Not fair.” I pulled at his clothes, wanting him to be equally so.

We stumbled back to the bed, collapsing onto it in a heap, limbs tangling as we wrestled a bit on top of the sheets. I finally pinned Oliver to the bed, giggling as I sat up and rested on his thighs. He looked up at me, gaze full of pure love and happiness. 

“ ‘m so lucky,” I said, running my hands through his chest hair. He brought his own hands to my thighs, his fingers curling around nearly the entire circumference. “So lucky I found you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Oliver argues, his hands running up my thighs. He then brought his hands to my own, bringing my fingers to his lips. “These gorgeous fingers,” he whispered before kissing over my fingertips. “My talented boy.”

“Oliver.” His name came out like more of a plea and I only had to wait a second before he was reaching for the lube and coating his fingers. I settled myself over his thighs, legs spread wide, and groaned as he slipped his fingers between my legs. “Talk about talented fingers,” I sighed as he pressed two fingers into me at once. I braced my hands on his chest and rolled my hips, effectively riding his fingers.

“Good?”

“Really good. God, Oliver. Love your fingers.”

He worked me open as I continued to move my hips and he soon was removing his fingers, slicking his cock and pushing into me in one fell swoop. I cried out, pitching forward a bit, but Oliver caught me, his hands wrapping around my waist.

“I got you, baby. You’re good.”

“I’m good,” I repeated as Oliver started to move. My breath hitched and I tilted my eyes back, eyes closing.

“Can’t believe it,” Oliver whispered a few minutes later. Our pace was still slow, a little bubble forming around us as our inebriation slipping away, replaced with the warm spread of our lovemaking. “I can’t believe this is my life.”

I smiled and thought back over the past few years and realized, despite all of our hardships, how truly lucky we were. I was so inexplicably happy living with Oliver and I felt a sudden burst of gratitude for my parents, my friends, and my Oliver. My Oliver: lover, boyfriend, partner, best friend, brother, father all rolled into one. I began to cry as he fucked me. Oliver didn’t comment, just squeezed my hips in reassurance.

It was a bit of a surprise when he came, as we’d be silent up until that point. He pushed his hips up hard as he filled me, murmuring his own name over and over.

“Elio,” I said back, seating myself fully on Oliver, squeezing around him. “Elio, Elio, Elio.” I wrapped my hand around my cock and brought myself off in a few quick strokes. I came over Oliver’s chest, looking down through teary eyes to watch as my come matted down his chest hair, a rope even hitting his Star of David. I practically collapsed on top of Oliver and licked the necklace clean.

“You’re good,” Oliver repeated, his arms immediately coming around me, one hand tangling in my curls. “You’re so good. So very good for me. To me. With me.”

“We’re good together,” I agreed. We stayed like that until Oliver grew soft. He gently rolled me onto my back and slipped out of bed, coming back with a damp cloth. I was already half asleep as he cleaned me up and I made soft little sounds of contentment as he ran the cloth over my heated flesh. I startled a bit once he finally got into bed, having dozed off.

“It’s just me,” he reassured, pulling the sheets up over us. 

“Just you,” I murmured in response. I draped myself over Oliver, our usual sleeping position, and practically burrowed into him, back asleep in an instant.

Despite our hangovers, we had celebratory brunch with my parents the next day. They were elated that I’d made it into the competition and promised to come to Warsaw while I’d be there in October for the competition.

“Will you come too?” I asked Oliver as we walked hand in hand through Washington Square Park. My parents walked a bit ahead of us, chattering away in Italian.

“I’ll have to see if I can get the time off. Probably not for the entire competition.” I understood that, as it was a three-week competition if I made it to the very end. My pout must’ve made me look quite dejected, as Oliver laughed and squeezed my hand. “I’ll come for the first few days. If you make it to the end, I promise I’ll come back. How’s that?”

That reassured me and my pout instantly evaporated into a smile. “Good. Yes, that’s good.”

The rest of my parent’s visit was a fantastic flurry of activity and I was quite sad to see them go. We’d done so much with them, really taking advantage of the beautiful summer weather. 

“We’ll see you in October,” my mother said as she hugged me. “Just a few more months, my darling. And then we can gorge ourselves on kielbasa and kraut in Warsaw.”

I nodded and blinked a few times to hold back my tears. I hugged my mom hard and kissed her cheeks repeatedly, my chest already breaking as she pulled away. The four of us exchanged more hugs and kisses until it was well and truly time for my parents to head off to the airport. Although I was sad to see them go, it’d been a wonderful visit.

But my parent's departure also brought the realization that I had quite a lot of work to do in the months leading up to the competition. I’d been living in a sort of dreamlike haze, the competition a faraway cloud as I pranced around Manhattan with my boyfriend and parents. As soon as we were back at the apartment, I sat myself down at the desk in our study, really going over all of the paperwork and provided requirements for the competition. By that evening, I sorted out what pieces I’d be playing and I shuffled out into the living room to find Oliver on the couch.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” I flopped down with my head in his lap, my feet hanging off the side of the couch. “Was this a bad idea?”

Oliver ran his fingers through my hair, tugging at my curls before patting them back into place. “If you want to be a concert pianist, no. Or if you’re doing it for the love of music, no. It all depends on your motivation.”

I closed my eyes and turned so that I could press my face into Oliver’s stomach. He flipped on the TV, keeping the volume down low, but kept one hand in my hair. I  _ did _ want to be a concert pianist, and I knew that competitions were a necessary step in starting my career. But I was still so young -- would I come to realize that this was a big mistake twenty years down the road? I sighed and wiggled a little closer to Oliver. 

Where would we be in twenty years? Oliver would probably start to have little flecks of grey in his temples. I’d probably have deep crows feet and a receding hairline like my father. It seemed that the only constant in my life, the one thing that I knew would remain for all of my years, was Oliver. I was young, sure, but of that I was positive. Oliver and I would never be apart ever again, and I desperately wished we could marry.

That thought stunned me a little bit. Of course, we both knew we’d stay together and we’d even joked about it. But I yearned to make it official, craved it really. We hadn't had a serious talk about it and I didn't want to bring it up, nervous for Oliver's reaction towards some sort of ceremony. Besides, what was the point if it couldn't even legally happen?

I rolled onto my back and looked up at Oliver, who smiled down at me. “You okay?”

“Me okay.” I sat up and instead curled up on his lap, my head resting on his shoulder. “Can we order in from that Italian place tonight?”

“Missing home?”

“Only a little.”

“Of course, Elio.” He kissed the top of my head as he flipped through the channels. “Whatever you want, it's yours.”

After my parents left, we had two full weeks until Marzia arrived the first week of August. She was only staying a week, which meant that Oliver and I had a good chunk of time before school started again.

That being said, my time became exponentially busier with my practice for the competition. Of course, Oliver and I enjoyed our usual summer activities: long bike rides, picnics in the park, nights out with our friends. Time at home was spent studying sheet music or sat at the piano. Having the piano in our apartment was a true gift, as it saved me having to go to the practice rooms at school. 

Oliver loved when I played. It quickly became his alarm clock, as I’d wake up before him and study my sheet music before playing. He often stayed in the living room with me, either reading or just sitting there with his eyes closed. The first time I played in the apartment, he plucked me up off the piano bench and sucked me off right there against the wall.

“You’ve no idea what hearing you play does to me,” he whispered after I’d come, staring up at me from his place on the floor. I felt so powerful at that moment with Oliver kneeling at my feet.

_ Worship me, Oliver. Worship me the way I’ve worshiped you all these years. _

The last week of July, Oliver came home from the grocery with a huge bag of peaches. He’d been taunting me all summer, eating the perfectly ripe fruits and letting the juices dribble down his chin as he did so. He’d kiss me after, tasting of sweet peaches. 

“You’re an asshole,” I said as I helped Oliver put away the food.

“What?” he asked, feigning complete innocence.

I looked at him, brow raised, a peach held up in one hand. “Stop teasing me.” I’d been so vulnerable that day in the attic, and when Oliver ate my peach it was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me. I felt raw for hours after that, a bundle of confusing and heartbreaking emotions that I didn’t want to feel.

“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not teasing?” He took the fruit from my hand and placed it on the counter before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close. I let my own arms drape around his neck and I tilted my head back a bit to look up at him. “That day is a very fond memory for me. You were so open, so beautiful, so good.”

“Elio.”

“Oliver.”

I adored the way he said his own name, I always had -- three distinct syllables, coming together to form the most perfect name, the most precious word I’d ever heard.

“Are they ripe?” At my question, Oliver kissed me, soft and swift, and left me swaying in the middle of the kitchen. I rolled my eyes as he went about feeling up the peaches, determining which were ripe. I gently shoved him aside and, teasing evident in my voice, said, “Let me pick. I’m the expert.”

I found two perfectly ripe peaches, their flesh yielding just a bit under the press of my thumbs. I gave one to Oliver and looked up at him from under my lashes. My breath hitched and I suddenly thought that this maybe wasn’t the best idea. I was afraid to dredge up old feelings, but then I watched as Oliver ran his fingers over the puckered part of the peach and was immediately half hard in my shorts. I followed him back to the bedroom, looking down at the peach in my hands. I suddenly felt dizzy with need and I had to grab onto Oliver’s shirt to keep my balance.

“You okay?” he asked, turning around and wrapping one strong arm around me.

I nodded and stood on my tiptoes so that I could press my face into his neck. He laughed and kissed the top of my head, letting me stay there for a moment before leading me over to the bed. It was late afternoon and the sun was filtering through the windows, casting our bed in a warm yellow glow. He sat on my side of the bed, so I clambered up onto his, his scent enveloping me as soon as I laid my head on the pillow. We looked at each other for a moment before Oliver took off his shirt. I followed suit, and we both settled back onto the pillows.

“You have to remove the pit first,” I said, even though that was pretty obvious. My voice was a bit shaky and my hand trembled as I picked up my peach. I dragged my fingers over the stem end before pressing them in, fingering open the fruit. I heard a wet squelch from next to me and looked over to find Oliver doing exactly the same. Juice dripped onto my chest and our bedroom soon smelled of sweet peaches. Once I’d extracted my pit, I stared at it for a second, not sure what to do with it. 

“Here,” Oliver said, sticking out his hand, his own pit laying in his palm. I put mine next to his and he placed both on his, or rather my, bedside table. He relaxed back onto the pillows and looked down at his now opened peach. “Do I just…?”

I dropped the peach to my chest and dragged it over one nipple first before bringing it down my sternum. Oliver did the same and I was suddenly jealous of his peach, wanting my own tongue on his chest. Once I got to my shorts, I deftly flicked the button open and shoved the peach down the hem. I closed my eyes, but heard Oliver unzipping his own shorts. 

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , Elio.” He sounded wrecked already, and I groaned as I slid my cock into the peach. Smooth and wet flesh surrounded me and I was immediately lost in the sensation. I rolled my hips up, struggling to keep the peach in one piece as I pleasured myself.

“Oliver.”

“I’m right here, baby.”

I opened my eyes to find Oliver staring at my groin, at the peach and my hand and my cock, all covered in sticky juice. I looked down at him, gasping at the sight of his cock splitting the peach open. I wanted to open my mouth around them both, suck his peach and his cock at the same time. I thrust up twice more and was then coming, coating the insides of the peach, filling the hole where the pit used to be.

My orgasm seemed to also throw Oliver over the edge, and he arched his back as he came. I watched as his cock throbbed and pulsed as he shot his load into the peach and suddenly my mouth was watering. I needed him inside me.

“Trade ya,” he said, slowly lifting the peach off his cock, which was left a sticky mess. I did the same, and once we both sat up, we swapped peaches. I held his so gently, the two halves connected only by a thin piece of skin. I peered down at it, swirling it a little and watching as his come slid over the flesh. 

Oliver took a bite of my peach, moaning in appreciation, and I took a deep breath before taking a bite of the one I now held. Sweet juice flooded my mouth and all I could taste was peach before the unmistakable taste of Oliver,  _ my Oliver _ , slid down my throat. 

Before I could help myself, I surged up, straddling him and kissing him soundly, sharing peach juice and each other’s come between us. “Love you,” I whispered. “I love you. So much.”

We spent a few hours trading peaches and sticky kisses until we were both too messy to do anything but strip completely and get into the shower. I felt drained as I leaned against Oliver, letting him wash me with our chamomile soap. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” I said, voice barely audible over the pitter-patter of the water. “No. I don’t know.” The day Oliver ate my peach I’d been so desperate for him not to leave me. I would have done anything to keep him there with me. Our love was doomed then. Now, it was endless.

Marzia arrived a week later and I hadn’t realized how happy I was to see my friend. It was her first time in New York and I couldn’t wait to show her around, part of me wanting to show off the slick city boy I thought I was. We picked her up from JFK and as soon as she saw us, she launched herself into my arms. After hurried hellos, we hailed a cab and Marzia stuck her head out the open window. 

“Where’s the city? I can’t see it.”

“I thought the same thing when I first arrived,” I said, pulling her back into the car. She and I jabbered away in a mixture of French and English and Italian. Oliver was up front with the cabbie, having his own conversation.

Once we arrived at our apartment, where Marzia would be sleeping on our couch, she’d filled me in on all of the Crema gossip. My parents, of course, had done the same when they visited, but they mostly talked about their own friend groups. Marzia knew what everyone our age in town was up to and what they’d gotten up to before the summer started.

“Oh, boys,” Marzia gushed as Oliver let her into our apartment, “it’s just perfect.”

We gave her the grand tour and set her up in the study where she’d be staying for the next week. “Hope it’s okay,” I said, fixing the sheets on the air mattress we made up on the floor. 

“More than.” She flopped down on the couch and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “So what’s on our itinerary?”

Oliver wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on top of my head. I hummed and leaned back against him. “Today we can go for a walk in the park and then head to dinner,” he said, picking up my wrist to glance down at the watch he’d given me. It was already late afternoon and we were sure Marzia would want to turn in early.

“Tomorrow we can get an early start,” I promised. “We can go to the Met in the morning and Oliver can bore us with art history.”

“And your American friends?” she asked in French.

I laughed and Oliver squeezed me around my middle. “What did she say?”

“She’s asking about our friends,” I said, looking up at him. “Which I believe is code for: she’s on the market again.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong, though?”

Marzia pouted and hunched in on herself a little. “No.”

“We’ll call Jeffrey and some of Oliver’s college friends. We can see them on Wednesday.”

Having Marzia in New York was surreal. She seemed out of place amongst the skyscrapers and dirty subway stations. I felt like she belonged only in Crema or in France, the only two places I’d ever seen her. While I’d normally walk hand in hand with Oliver, Marzia seemed determined to have her arm looped through mine as we walked through the city. She was constantly chattering, much to mine and Oliver’s amusement, asking a thousand questions.

At the end of her first full day, Oliver and I collapsed into bed, exhausted.

“It’s like having a child.”

“Shh,” I kicked him gently under the covers, “she might hear you.”

“So you agree.”

“Hey, you know her too. You knew what you were getting into.”

Oliver pounced on me, exhaustion forgotten for a moment as he tickled me until I was squealing for him to stop and have mercy.

The next day, Oliver insisted that Marzia and I go out alone, wanting to give us some time together.

“I don’t mind your company, Oliver,” she said easily as she did up her hair.

“Nah, you and Elio should have some time without me.” He pulled me close by the hem of my shirt and I glowered up at him.

“You’re gonna stretch the fabric.”

“I’m gonna stretch  _ you _ ,” he whispered against my ear.

“You brute,” I accused, but there was no malice behind my words. I playfully shoved at his chest, but he kept me there, his hold strong as he kissed down my neck.

“I’ll meet you two later. How about around 2 at Bryant Park. Maybe we can catch rush tickets to a show tonight.”

We left Oliver with shouted laters and were soon off to the subway. We headed to Fifth Avenue, as Marzia wanted to do some window shopping. She pulled me in nearly every direction, pointing at nearly everything at once.

“Oooh,” she cooed as she tugged me over to Cartier’s display of engagement rings. “I’d love one of those,” she said, pointing to a garish canary diamond.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “That’s hideous.”

“You just don’t have any taste or class,” she huffed, pulling me to the next window. “Besides,” she sighed, “it’s not like I’m getting engaged any time soon.”

“Would you want to be engaged so young?”

“Of course. If I found the right one.” She cocked her hip and leaned against the window. “Don’t you want to be engaged to Oliver?”

I blushed and looked down. “Marzia, you know that’s not an option.”

“Why not? Just because you can’t legally get married doesn’t mean you can’t do it on your own terms.”

I laughed and kicked at a small pebble, watching it bounce over the curb. “That’s funny. I’ve been thinking kind of the same thing.”

“So then why don’t you propose?”

“I don’t know - Oliver might - He’s not -”

“Are you kidding me, Elio?” She cut me off with a punch to my upper arm and I broke eye contact with the sidewalk to glare at her. “You’d be stupid to think he doesn’t want to be with you for forever, and I  _ know _ you’re not stupid.”

“I guess.”

“No  _ I guess _ . Really think about it. He loves you, you  _ imbécile _ .” She checked her watch and then took my hand. “Come on, we’re going to be late for lunch.” 

My head was swimming the entire time, Oliver and I wearing matching rings was just about the only thing I could think of. I gladly let Marzia talk through most of lunch, daydreaming of a world in which Oliver and I could legally bind our love. But Marzia was right. There was no one stopping us from having our own ceremony.

When we met up with Oliver, I very nearly proposed to him on the spot but held back when he only hugged me in greeting. After our embrace, I felt like every set of eyes in the park were on us, and I realized the stigma that shrouded our relationship wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Oliver and I were, for the most part, open in public but we were always keenly aware of our surroundings. There was still violence and ignorance and, in addition to all of that, I was afraid that asking Oliver to solidify our relationship further would scare him away. That somehow, in doing so, I’d be asking too much of him. Or he’d realize that I was the biggest mistake of his life. I couldn’t risk that, not now, not ever.

We walked toward the theatre district together, Marzia telling Oliver all about our day together. I hung back a bit, silently letting my thoughts create the swirl of a bad mood around me.

We ended up getting tickets to  _ 42nd Street _ and by the time we got home, Marzia promptly shut the door to the study and passed out.

“Hey,” Oliver pushed my hair off my forehead and then leaned down to kiss me, “are you alright? You were quiet this afternoon.”

“I’m fine.” I tried to walk to the dresser to take out pajamas, but it wasn’t so easy to brush him off. Oliver held me in place.

“I need you to talk to me, Elio. You know that.”

“I know.” I sighed and closed my eyes, tipping my head back. Oliver kissed at my now exposed throat and I swallowed. “What would I do to cause you to leave me?”

“Elio,” Oliver admonished, stepping back and gripping my upper arms, “how could you ask something like that?”

“Becuase I’m curious. Besides cheating on you or, I dunno, murdering everyone you loved, why would you leave me?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Oliver, there has to be something.”

“Well, there isn’t. Aside from cheating and murdering of course.” He smiled, and I did too a bit, my bad mood lifting for the first time since earlier that afternoon. “You are so good, Elio. You’d never do anything to hurt me or cause me to leave you, I promise.” He pulled me close again and kissed me. “Nothing is gonna take me away from you.”


	4. Above our life we love a steadfast friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW It's been a long ass time, hasn't it?! As I'm sure all of you know from my many Facebook/Tumblr/Ao3 posts, real life has been wild. I know it's been a month (a little more?) of me promising a return from the depths of illness, work, etc. BUT HERE I FINALLY AM!!! I think I needed the past month to really get back into the groove of things post-holidays. Now that I'm working out a better general life schedule, I'll hopefully have more time (I know I say that LITERALLY every chapter I post, but I'm truly making writing a priority this year). I'm gonna try to promise more regular updates and maybe, MAYBE, I'll even get onto some sort of schedule!
> 
> ANYWAYS, enjoy this chapter and I promise more will be coming soon! Next to be updated will be We Are But A Moment's Sunlight!! Thank you to everyone who has checked in and to everyone that has stuck with me on this journey :)

We promised Marzia a night out on the town and so we wanted to deliver. I made some calls to Jeffrey, Matt, Cassidy, and all of Oliver’s friends and we had a large band of people together for a Saturday night out. We decided to start at a bar downtown that was close enough to another one that Oliver and I frequented in case we wanted to head to a gay club afterward. I dressed in my usual: skin-tight black jeans and a teeshirt, I fiddled around with my curls for a bit before heading out to find Oliver on the couch in the living room. He was in jeans and a button down and I reached down to undo the last button he’d done up, exposing more of his chest hair.

“There,” I said, plopping down next to him and fiddling with his Star of David where it was nestled against the thick curls on his chest. “Much better.”

Oliver laughed and pulled me closer, burying his nose in my hair. “You smell nice.”

“I _always_ smell nice,” I corrected, happy to let Oliver manhandle me a bit. “Marzia still getting ready?” We could hear pop music blasting from behind the closed door to the study where he was busy primping herself.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever get out of here,” Oliver sighed, picking up my arm so he could glance down at my watch.

“You’re always doing that,” I remarked, leaning in so I could nudge my nose along his jaw. “Why don’t you just wear your own watch?”

“Because I like doing it this way,” Oliver said, running his thumb along the underside of my wrist. I shivered and closed my eyes. “I like pulling you close. Holding your wrist in my hands. Looking down at the gift I gave you.”

I was about to suggest we head back into the bedroom until Marzia was finished, but just as I opened my mouth, the music cut out and the study door swung open. There Marzia stood in all her glory, a haze of hairspray still visible behind her as she sauntered out into the living room. My eyes bulged as I took her in: all curves in a tight gold dress and red strappy heels. “Damn,” I whispered, eyes raking over Marzia.

“Ti piace quello che vedi, Elio?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Cazzo, sei bellissima.” Oliver smacked my arm and a blinked before turning my attraction back to him. “What?”

“Stop staring at her,” he said with a pinch to my arm.

“Ow!”

Marzia laughed and Oliver stood, grabbing her purse for her. “You look fantastic,” he said, “but don’t let anyone ogle you. Especially not Elio.”

“It’s alright, Oliver. I like the attention.” She kissed his cheek, leaving behind a little pink lip print. I became immediately enraged; Oliver was _my_ man and, even though I knew Marzia had no intention of stealing him, I wanted to mark him up in my _own_ lipstick. And _oh_ that was a thought. I made a mental note to ask Jeffrey what color might look good with my skin tone. He was always going on about how jewel tones looked best on him.

We met our merry crew of friends at the predetermined bar and I made introductions. I watched as Marzia tried to remember everyone’s names and quickly placed a protective arm around her shoulder when Grant clearly started flirting right off the bat. I sat squished between Marzia and Oliver, content to be surrounded by my friends.

We drank until our heads spun and soon enough, Marzia was flitting between my friends, wanting to talk to every single one of them. Once she settled on talking to Matt, I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to Oliver, who was chatting with Debs and Jeffrey.

“I think we have a new recruit,” Jeffrey said with a wink.

I rose my brows and looked between Jeffrey and Debs. “At the Center?”

“Yep,” Debs said, a huge smile on her face. “I’ve been looking for a new volunteer opportunity. I won’t be able to come on Fridays during your slot, but I was thinking Monday and Wednesday evenings.”

“Here, give me your phone number,” Jeffrey said, sliding a cocktail napkin and a pen over to her. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow and we can chat.”

In a moment of bravery, I kissed Oliver’s cheek and scooted a bit closer. He laughed and squeezed my shoulder before handing me his half-finished drink. He ducked his head so he could whisper against my ear. “Finish that one off and I’ll get us refills.”

After a few more rounds, Grant and Debs decided it was time for them to head home. Oliver and I had our suspicions that they might get back together and he and I exchanged glances when our friends made a hasty exit.

“Do you think that confirms things?” I asked as I hopped off the bench and took Oliver’s hand.

“Hmm, maybe. We’ll have to keep an eye on them.”

The entire group, except for Sharon, decided to head over to a gay bar nearby. It was one Oliver and I went to often because of its duality: a casual bar on one side and a raging dancefloor on the other. As soon as we walked in, the vibe was immediately different. There were Pride flags everywhere, music thumping, men without shirts bartending, sweaty bodies entwined on the dance floor. Once we had our drinks in hand, Oliver tugged me over to dance, leaving Jeffrey, Michael, and David behind. Marzia and Matt followed us and I smirked at Marzia before being whisked into Oliver’s arms.

He pulled me close, our chests pressed together. I finished my drink in one gulp so that I could easily wrap my arms around his neck. He pulled me close, arms around my waist, his cold glass pressing against my lower back. I shivered and arched my back, letting the condensation rub off on my shirt.

“My pretty boy,” he growled against my neck before biting gently at my sweaty skin. I groaned and tossed my head back, letting him mark me up as he pleased. He slotted his thigh between mine and my breath hitched as he ground against me.

“Oliver,” I whined, practically begging for him to fuck me right there. We were both drunk and so it was easy to let go a bit, indulge each other in some heavy petting.

We spent a majority of the night dancing and by the time Oliver and I were sufficiently plastered and dead on our feet, he pulled me over to the bar for some water. I glanced over to find Marzia and Matt making out as they swayed against one another and I nearly choked on my drink.

“They’ve been at it for the entire time,” Cassidy said from the stool next to mine. “You two were just too busy to notice. I watched with wide eyes as Matt ran his hands down over Marzia’s ass and back up to her lower back. I knew exactly what that body felt like, even without the barrier of her clothes. The hard planes of muscle under soft skin, the coarse thatch of pubic hair, the smell and feel of her wetness. I knew what it was like to kiss her. How she would lick and nip at my lower lip and give me tiny, gentle kisses before going in for a full-on make out. I cocked my head to the side and grinned before twirling on my barstool to face Oliver.

“What are _you_ smiling about?”

“Nothin’” I crooned, leaning in for a kiss.

Oliver rolled his eyes and kissed me and I chased the taste of the alcohol on his lips. “Is she coming home with us or going to Matts?” he asked, now moving his kisses along my neck. I shrugged and wriggled out of his grasp in order to turn to Cassie.

“D’you think he’s taking her home?” I asked, as they were roommates.

Cassie shrugged and chugged down quite a bit of her beer. “No idea, you’ll have to ask them.” She grinned and ran a hand through her hair which was short on one side and totally shaved on the other. She was effortlessly cool and I was eternally jealous. “Damn shame, though,” she sighed, “because she’s hot as hell.”

I laughed and looked back at Marzia and Matt. “She is.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

I’d taken a drink at a very inopportune time, as I choked on my sip as soon as Cassie asked her question.

“He sure did,” Oliver said, patting my back in an effort to dislodge the vodka that had gone down the wrong pipe. “And he also fucked a pea-”

“Alright!” I cried out, popping up and grasping Oliver’s wrist. “Let’s go see if she wants to come home with us.”

We left Cassie and Jeffrey laughing at the bar as I marched over to Marzia and tapped her on the shoulder, not shy in the slightest. “Tu viens à la maison avec nous ou tu veux baiser Matty?”

“Elio!” Marzia gasped, pulling away from Matt with a huge smile.

Matt looked dazed and confused, but he had a dopey smile on his face. “Marzia is _awesome_ ,” he said, leaning in to try and kiss her again. Marzia giggled and gently pushed him away.

“Je pense que je vais rester un peu. Si je veux revenir chez vous, j'ai la clé supplémentaire.”

I rolled my eyes and threaded my fingers with Oliver’s. “Fais attention. Rendez-vous demain pour le petit déjeuner avec Matt. Il y a un diner sur la 68ème rue. Il saura lequel. 10h du matin”

“Parfait. Au revoir, Elio.”

“She’s gonna stay here for a little,” I said, turning back to Oliver as we left them on the dance floor.

“She has the key if she wants to come back early?”

I laughed and nodded. “She does, but I doubt she will. We’ll meet them tomorrow at the diner on 68th at 10. Sound good?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We said our goodbyes to our friends at the bar before hailing a cab back up to our place. I slumped against Oliver in the backseat, letting him pet my curls as we jetted up to the apartment. Once we were freshened up and in bed, Oliver rolled over to kiss along my neck and shoulder.

“Would you ever want to bring in a third person?” he asked softly.

“What, to rent the study? We can afford this place just fine, Oliver.”

He laughed and nipped at my ear. “No, my goose. I mean like...a third person to have sex with us. A girl, maybe. I saw the way you were watching Marzia.”

I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “No way. Unless that’s something _you_ want.”

“Not particularly. I just wanted to make sure you’re getting everything you need.”

I hummed and reached between us to grab Oliver’s cock through his boxers. “This right here is all I need. Just you, Oliver. No one else.” I giggled as he started to thrust into my hand. “I was just thinking how strange it was that I’d slept with her the same summer I slept with you. How different you two are. How much I prefer having you in my bed.”

“Mmh, I like that train of thought.” He groaned as I snuck my hand into his boxers to stroke his cock skin to skin. “Please.” His request was murmured against my ear, voice soft and desperate. “Please, Elio.”

We shimmied out of our clothes and I reached for the lube as Oliver made himself comfortable on my lap. “You gonna ride me, baby?” I cooed, drizzling lube over my fingers and sneaking them between Oliver’s legs. I pushed two in, loving the way Oliver opened up for me.

“Yeah,” he sighed, sitting up a bit and letting the sheets slide off his shoulders and pool around our thighs. He rolled his hips a bit and groaned.

“Does that feel good, Oliver?” I asked as I pushed my fingers in deeper. He nodded and I used my other hand to stroke his cock. I slid my thumb through the precome at the tip, loving the way it gently pulsed out against my fingers. “So wet for me.”

“Elio.” I could hear the desperation in Oliver’s voice, the way it raised in pitch a bit, the breathlessness.

“I’m right here, Oliver.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me like you fucked Marzia.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Oliver.” I slicked up my cock and positioned myself at his hole. “If you wanted me to fuck you like her,” I grunted out as I pushed my hips up, “I’d probably eat you out first. Then fuck you for a total of twenty seconds before coming.”

Oliver laughed as he sunk down on my cock, enveloping me in that tight warmth I’d gotten to know so well. “That doesn’t sound far off from what we get up to.”

“You want me to fuck you, Oliver?”

“Yeah.”

“Then don’t be rude.” I pinched his side as he bottomed out and we moaned in unison. I planted my feet on the bed and snapped my hips up, jostling Oliver a bit on my lap.

“Who was a better fuck that summer?” Oliver asked breathlessly as I moved inside him.

“Jealous?”

Oliver made a non-committal sound and I laughed.

“Well, I _did_ lose my virginity to Marzia,” I said, looking up at my boyfriend. He had his eyes closed and his head topped back and there was a light sheen of sweat over his chest. I grabbed his hips and squeezed hard, wanting to leave behind fingerprints.

“Technically you lost your virginity to me too.”

“Hmm, I suppose one could say that.”

“So?”

“So…”

“So who was the better fuck?” Oliver brought his hand down to his cock and began stroking in time with my thrusts.

“Well, I’m living here with you and not with Marzia, aren’t I?”

Oliver fell silent after that and the only sounds in our room were those of our lovemaking. He came quietly, gasping as he spilled over my chest and tummy. I came a few moments later, the vice-like grip of his asshole coaxing my orgasm out of me. I pulled him down for a kiss, keeping him there until I grew soft inside him. As I wiped my belly clean with one of our teeshirts, he hobbled off to the bathroom to clean up. Once snuggled up in bed again, Oliver wrapped his strong arms around me and kissed the top of my head.

“I love you, Elio.”

“Love you too, Oliver. There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”

“Me neither, baby.”

“Good.”

That made Oliver laugh and he nuzzled against my curls, whispering soft _I love you_ s until I fell asleep.

We met Marzia and Matt at our predetermined location and time and literally laughed out loud when I saw my friends. The two of them were seated on opposite ends of the booth, heads down, sunglasses on, both nursing cold glasses of water and warm cups of coffee.

“Hey, guys!” Oliver cheered, way too loud for two people so hungover.

Marzia whined and dropped her head to the Formica table. “Ferme la merde.”

I slid into the booth next to Matt and nudged his arm. “How was the rest of the night?”

“Cassidy is dead to me,” he grumbled after a sip of coffee. I assumed that meant Cassie had made them take more than a handful of shots after we’d left and, by the time we ordered our breakfast, we’d eked out the rest of last night’s story.

“Sorry to drag you out of bed so early,” I said, cringing a bit especially considering they only got back to the apartment around 4 am. And I did _not_ want to inquire about what time they actually went to bed. Oliver reached for my hand across the table and I smiled at him before lacing our fingers together.

After a few more cups of coffee and some greasy strips of bacon, Matt and Marzia seemed much better, and even went so far as to remove their sunglasses. We chatted a bit about the rest of Oliver’s friends before Marzia asked more about Jeffrey. Oliver and I went on to tell her all about what we do at the Center for the AIDS patients. We even told them about Alondro’s daily poker and rummy games and how we often joined in, but our skills were never any match for Alondro’s. I’d noticed a few people at the table next to us giving us looks as we talked, but I turned my back to them a bit, wanting to cut out any negativity. Suddenly, we were being served with the check.

“Oh, I actually wanted another cup of coffee,” Matt said, holding out his mug.

“I can get one to go for you, sir,” our waitress said, voice soft with nerves.

“None of us asked for the check,” Oliver said, sitting up in his seat a bit.

“Ah, we just...have some customers waiting for tables.”

Oliver made a big show of looking around the restaurant. “Well, I don’t see anyone waiting and, even if there were, there are plenty of empty tables.”

“I’m sorry sir, I just -”

“I don’t see why we can’t stay.”

“Oliver, don’t,” I said quietly, reaching into my pocket for my wallet. “We can go.”

“Why don’t you just get the hell out of here,” came a voice from the next table. We looked over at two older couples who were staring at us in disgust. “We’re trying to have a nice breakfast and all we can hear from you people is a lot of talk about that queer disease. If one of you has it, then you shouldn’t be in a restaurant anyway.

“None of us has it, you moron,” said Marzia, turning on him. “These two help victims of AIDS.”

“I think you misunderstand the meaning of the word _victim_ ,” said one of the women. You’re not a victim if you’re asking for it.”

“What the fuck?” I asked, half-amused and half-shocked.

“Miss, you need to throw away all their plates and cutlery,” said the man. “No one else should have to eat off them after these people.”

It took just a moment for Oliver to be on his feet and marching over to their table. The waitress stepped back and Matt jumped up, as did I, uncertain what to do, how I could be helpful.

“What’s the matter with you?” asked Oliver. The vein in his forehead became more pronounced the more furious he got. This was something that happened whenever he grew really angry or frustrated. “You think you know what you’re talking about? You don’t understand anything of what you’re saying. Develop a little humanity, why don’t you?”

“Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. Why don’t you go down to the West Village? They’ll be happy to serve all you perverts down there.”

“Let’s just leave,” said Marzia, grabbing Oliver by the arm. “But don’t think we’ll be paying the bill,” she added to the waitress. “You can stick that where the sun don’t shine.”

 Oliver wrapped his arm tight around my waist as we headed towards the door. He was still angry, I could tell, but I let him pull me close. A very old woman sitting by the door spat us as we made our way out.

“Fuck you,” the woman, who was old enough to remember the Great Depression, had snarled at us. “Fucking AIDS carriers.” 

Oliver managed to control his temper and just walk out, with me still crushed against his side. The four of us were quiet as we walked down the sidewalk, Oliver practically stomping as we silently and unanimously made our way toward Central Park. We reached the Park and Oliver sighed, relaxing only slightly. I looked up at him, blinking against the sun. The bulge was still visible in his forehead and I desperately wished I could soothe it with soft kisses.

 “They’d have a bit more decency if one of them got it. I wish they would. I wish they all would.”

“You don’t mean that,” I said, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close to me. Marzia and Matt walked ahead, leaving us to have a moment in private.

“No,” he whispered with a sigh. He dropped his forehead to mine. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

 We walked in the park for a few hours until our shared anger, disbelief, and sadness dissipated. We all ended up grabbing iced coffees and sprawling out in the grass together.

“Thank you, Marzia,” I said as I reached for a strawberry from the pint we’d picked up. “For earlier.”

She ruffled my curls and shook her head. “You haven’t anything to thank me for,” she assured. “You’re my friends. You’re my brothers. I love you dearly and anyone who dares say anything like that to you has _me_ to answer to.” 

Oliver leaned his head against my shoulder. “And if I were them, I’d be pretty fucking terrified.” We all laughed and I kissed the top of Oliver’s head.

“We don’t often hear stuff like that,” I said quietly a few moments later. “Sure we get odd looks sometimes and there are some places where we’d never hold hands but…” I shrugged, thinking over my time in New York. Aside from meeting with Daniel’s mom, coming out to Allan, and the occasional call of “faggot” or some derivative thereof, we hadn’t dealt with much. Especially considering what our other brothers and sisters had been going through. I shivered, the thought of someone beating Oliver to death suddenly feeling very real and very imminent. I held onto him a bit tighter, my blood running cold. The conversation moved on from there, my friends and my boyfriend chatting easily while I sat there in the warm summer sun, gripped by the fear of finding Oliver in a lifeless, bloody heap.

Marzia and Matt headed to a late lunch after our jaunt in the Park, so Oliver and I decided to head back home.

“Hey, are you okay?” Oliver asked, taking my hand as we walked down our block. “You’ve been quiet this afternoon.”

“Hmm? Yeah. Yeah, fine. I’m fine.”

 “You don’t seem fine.” Oliver let us into our building and called the elevator as I checked our mail. We were quiet until we were back in our apartment.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I said, beelining for our record collection so I could busy myself with flicking through vinyls instead of making eye contact with Oliver.

“Elio,” Oliver chided, coming to stand behind me, “how many times do we have to go over this? There’s no one for me but you.

“It’s not that,” I said, although I did immediately relax once his arms were secure around my waist. “What if someone...what if you...didn’t you see what happened to that guy in Central Park a couple months ago?”

“That’s not going to happen to me.” Oliver’s voice was hard and final and I could feel him stiffen behind me.

The death of the man in Central Park had hit us hard. We hadn’t known him, in fact, had never even seen him. He lived in Brooklyn and was spending the afternoon in Manhattan with his boyfriend. His boyfriend had gone to get them coffees and when he came back, found his partner dead in the grass. He was beaten up by a group of men who’d seen them embracing in the Park an hour before. We were pretty shaken up after it had happened, but Mark was quick to tell us, to tell his congregation and everyone at the Center, that news like that should not deter us from living our lives. “We exist in this world,” he had said, “and people need to get used to that.”

“It’s not going to happen to either of us.”

“Sometimes I think we should just move away,” I said sadly. “Back to Italy or maybe San Francisco. Or Canada.”

Oliver swept kisses over the back of my neck.

“Is that what you want?”

“No,” I said immediately. “No. I like it here.” I loved our life in New York. I loved our apartment and our friends and my classes. I loved having independence and living in such a vibrant and diverse city. I didn't want to leave. Not any time soon. But perhaps our safety was paramount to our happiness. After all, how could we be happy if we were not safe?

“Me too.” Oliver hummed and rested his head on my shoulder. “Nothing will happen to us, babe. I swear.” As much as I knew that Oliver’s words couldn’t protect me from everything, I felt as though no harm could ever befall me. I turned in Oliver’s arms and wound my own around his neck. “You hear me, baby? Nothing.”

“I hear you.”

“Good.” He kissed me and I relaxed into it, even letting him hold me so close and so tight that I could barely breathe. For all his big talk I could tell that Oliver was scared too. But we had each other and we had our friends and, somehow, I knew that would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too corny? Perhaps... 
> 
> Hope you liked it!! Comments/Kudos/Criticisms/Thoughts/Feelings always welcome :) I've been writing this series for over a year now and I love it just as much as I did the day I started it, so I'll NEVER abandon it, no matter how much time goes by! Once again, thank you to all who have stuck with me for this long!! xoxo <3


	5. This heat the sun could never raise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly. Been a long time, right?
> 
> Please enjoy :)

Marzia left us on the Sunday after. We enjoyed her visit very much. Having her in our tiny apartment was like a constant flurry of activity and excitement. She never seemed to slow down, and I missed her bubbly energy. Oliver and I came back to an empty apartment after her departure and I sighed as I sat down on the couch.

“I’m exhausted.”

“Tell me about it.” 

 I could hear him fiddling around in the kitchen but I refused to open my eyes until he sat down next to me. He’d prepared a bowl of fruit and some yogurt with granola. Marzia had left so early that we didn’t even have time for breakfast. I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until Oliver handed me a spoon. I immediately started shoveling yogurt into my mouth.

“Whoa, slow down there, tiger,” Oliver teased, grabbing a bowl for himself. He flicked on the TV and channel surfed for a while before finally settling on a Golden Girls rerun. I snuggled up next to him and sighed contentedly.

“Love you.”

He laughed and kissed the top of my head. “I love you, too.” 

I finished my yogurt and, after making Oliver set my bowl on the table, I lay down with my head on his lap. Oliver started playing with my curls and I hummed, rolling onto my side so that I could press my face against his stomach. I raked up his shirt a little so I could nose under it. I lapped at the skin I found there, dusted with a trail of hair from his navel to his groin. 

Oliver groaned and pulled at my hair. “ ‘m tired, baby.”

 I laughed and nipped at Oliver’s tummy before ducking out from under his shirt and looking up at him with a wide smile. “You’re boring.” 

“I know, I know, I’m getting old.” He sighed and pushed my hair off my forehead. “Will you ever grow tired of me?”

I scoffed and swatted at Oliver’s chest. “Are you kidding me? How could I ever grow tired of you?”

Oliver shrugged and I sat up, ducking my head a bit so that I could catch his gaze. “You’re so young. So vivacious and full of life. And here you are, stuck with me.” 

“Oliver, you know I don’t feel that way,” I said, my heart aching at the thought of Oliver ever thinking he wasn’t good enough. “I adore you.” I ran my fingers over his cheek and then tangled them in his hair. “I love you, more than anyone or anything. I wouldn’t ever leave you. You were made for me and I for you.” 

Oliver nodded, quiet for a moment before answering. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m just tired and getting a bit sentimental.”  

I smiled sadly and pressed my lips to his forehead. I knew exactly how he felt. Thinking back to the time we were apart, the time when we thought there wasn’t a chance we’d ever be together again, was still too close for comfort. We were devoted to each other, yes, and we’d been together for a few years, but that pain was still fresh on both our minds. 

“Shall we nap?” I suggested, keeping my voice light. We still had a few weeks off ahead of us -- life was good and there was no need to dwell on the past. 

Oliver switched off the TV and smacked a kiss to my lips. “We shall, my darling.” We slowly undressed each other as we stumbled back to our bedroom, finally hitting the mattress once we were both down to our boxers. “C’mere you,” Oliver growled, yanking me into his arms.

I squealed and kicked only for a moment before succumbing to Oliver’s strong grip around me. He wrapped both arms and legs around me, practically encasing me like a cocoon. I was warm and happy and felt so loved. “What will we do with the rest of our summer?” I murmured, already sleepy. School started again on September 15th, so we had a little over a month of free time together. 

“Hmm…Ride our bikes, read in the park, visit our friends..." 

The way he said it made me think he already had some plans up his sleeve, but I was too drowsy to ask him about it. I fell asleep soon after, a warm summer breeze filtering in through our open window.

Oliver definitely made good on his promise of a good summer for our last few weeks off. We both loved summertime. Neither of us had work to do and we had no responsibilities aside from going to the Resource Center every Friday. Our time was spent mainly in Central Park, Oliver often shedding his shirt in an attempt to catch some of the sun’s rays. It was on such a day when he rolled onto his side, blocking the sun from hitting my own skin. 

“Hey,” he said, voice low and gravelly.

“Hi,” I said back, not opening my eyes under my sunglasses. 

He leaned down and brushed kisses over my cheeks and nose which made me giggle. “How about we go to the beach this week?” 

“The beach?” I repeated, now cracking one eye open to look up at him. We hadn’t yet gone to a beach since my arrival in New York and I thought it might be a fun adventure akin to our days in Italy.

“Yep. Long Island has some of the best beaches around. We can get deli sandwiches and beers and soft serve before we come back home.” 

“Mmh, that sounds nice.” I closed my eyes again and reached out for Oliver’s hand. He threaded our fingers together and squeezed. “Hey, didn’t Amada say one of her cousins has a beach house out on Long Island? Maybe she can give us some recommendations.”

Oliver settled on his back again, our fingers still entwined. “Good idea, babe.”

I smiled and moved a little closer so that our shoulders were touching too. “I know. I’m brilliant.” 

When we got home that afternoon, I dialed Amanda as Oliver showered. 

“Elio! We’ve missed you. When are you coming over? We haven’t seen you two since dinner last week. Kate keeps asking for you.”

I laughed and made myself comfortable on the couch. “How about Oliver and I come for dinner again soon.”

“Tomorrow night,” she said immediately. I could hear Kate babbling in the background and my smile grew. 

“Alright, tomorrow night it is. How are you feeling?” Amanda was due in about a month. She was feeling a lot better than she had when she was pregnant with Kate, but her ankles were quite swollen and she was having trouble sleeping. 

“Ah, I’m alright. Back’s killing me, but what else is new. We’re just excited to meet our little man.”

“Is Pat convinced he’s having a son again?”

“Mmh, he is, but I am too. This one feels different. So, why’d you call?” 

“Must I only call for a reason?” I teased, suddenly feeling _very_ _adult_. I was in an apartment in New York City, chatting on the phone to a friend while my partner showered. It was suddenly so surreal it made my head spin.  

“Spit it out, Perlman.”

“Okay, okay. Oliver and I were thinking about heading to Long Island for a day at the beach and I remembered your cousin has a house out there. Do you think she could pass along some recommendations? Beaches, restaurants, and the like?”

“Ooh, yes of course! I’ll reach out to Stacey tonight and have all of the recommendations ready for you tomorrow when you come over. She keeps inviting us out, but with the little one on the way it’s been such a busy summer.”

“I know. I can’t believe we’ve only got a few weeks left.”

Amanda sighed. “I dread to think Pat goes back to work so soon. My due date is one day after the semester starts.” 

“I’m sure Oliver can cover for him. He deserves some time off when the baby comes.” I heard the shower turn off and immediately perked up. “Speaking of, Oliver’s just out of the shower. What time do you want us to come tomorrow?” 

“Five-ish? We can have some appetizers on our roof deck before dinner. And I’m sure Kate will want to show you all her new toys.” 

“Perfect. We’ll see you then.”

“Looking forward. Love you, Elio!”

“Love you, too.”

“Who was that?” Oliver asked, coming in with a towel around his waist. 

“Jealous?” 

He laughed and kissed the top of my head. “Always, when it comes to you.” 

“It was Amanda, so no need for your brutish jealousy. We’re going to their place for dinner tomorrow and they’ll have all the Long Island recommendations for us.” Oliver sat down on the couch and I tried to push him off. “Aw, c’mon, you’re still damp!”

“What? You don’t like it when I’m all…hot…” Oliver dropped his voice down low and started to move toward me, backing me up to the other end of the couch, “and wet?” He covered my body with his and I halfheartedly tried to shove him away. 

“You’re getting me all wet,” I protested when Oliver’s hair dripped onto my shirt.

He shook his head like a dog, spraying me with droplets. “But I love it when you’re wet for me, baby.”

“You’re disgusting,” I accused, but my voice was a needy whimper.

“Don’t deny it, Elio. You fucking love it.”

“I do. Fuck, I do.” I surged up and kissed him, our noses and teeth knocking a bit as we tried to settle into a rhythm. 

“Gonna suck you off right here,” Oliver growled as he started kissing down my body. He unbuttoned and unzipped my jean shorts, tugging them and my boxers down as fast as he could. My cock, hard and jutting up, now exposed to the cool air of our apartment, leaked at the tip. Oliver leaned in to lap at the bead of precome and the moan that emanated from his throat made me shiver.

“Oliver,” I whispered, arching my back and pushing up against his mouth. “Please."

“God, you’re so needy for me, aren’t you, baby?” 

“Yeah,” I breathed, reaching down to pull at his hair. The warm weather always made me feel sated and comfortable and overly sexual with Oliver, whether from the lack of clothes or the reminder of our summer in Italy.

“That’s it,” Oliver cooed. “Just relax for me, Elio.” With that, Oliver wrapped his lips around the head of my cock and sucked, drawing a lewd groan from my lips. His hands caressed my sides, warm calloused fingers scraping up my smooth skin. I let him set the pace, wanting to surrender myself completely to my lover. 

When Oliver snuck a hand between my legs, I was immediately on the edge. Oliver could probably tell, given the little chuckle around my cock. He gently tapped at my hole before pressing his fingers up over my perineum. He finally gave my balls a light tug and I was coming, spilling down his throat. Oliver sucked it all down, making satisfied little noises against my over sensitive skin. 

“You’re amazing,” he murmured as he pulled off. He placed little kisses to my hips and tummy as I relaxed back against the couch.

“You,” I said, making grabby hands at my boyfriend. 

“Later.” 

I pouted and tried to reach for him again. “Why not now?” 

Oliver blushed and looked away. “Because I jacked off in the shower. Thinking about you.”

I giggled and sat up so that I could give Oliver a kiss. “Why, when I was just out here?”

“I dunno. I started thinking about you and I just couldn’t stop.” 

I smiled and kissed over his flushed cheeks. “That’s alright, I think it’s flattering. Do you know how much time I spent jacking off while thinking about you that summer?” 

“Probably the same amount I did thinking about you.” We both laughed and Oliver kissed my forehead. “You want to go out to dinner tonight?”

“Yes, please. Thai?”

“Sounds good to me. We can go to that new place on 76th.” 

“That’s what I was thinking too.”

It was already four, so we spent the next hour straightening up the apartment a bit before dressing and heading to dinner, hand in hand. We crashed early that night, our warm afternoon out in the sun having wiped us out.

The next evening, we left for Pat and Amanda’s around quarter to five, deciding to walk there. It was gorgeous out, still sunny and warm, and I looped my arm through Oliver’s as we walked.

 “Mmh, today was a good day,” I sighed, resting my head against Oliver’s shoulder as we walked.

“It was,” he agreed, laughing a bit at the way I clung to him.

We woke up relatively early and Oliver fucked me soft and slow, taking extra time and care to make us both feel good. He was so sweet with me after, gently cleaning me up with a damp cloth. He wrapped me up in those strong arms and held me against his chest until I fell asleep again. We had breakfast in bed, just a simple meal of cereal and fruit, before venturing out on our bikes. We decided to ride along the Hudson on the west side, taking advantage of the mostly empty bike lane. We came home, sweaty and panting, and immediately tumbled after one another into the shower, where Oliver spent a good twenty minutes eating me out until I came against the shower wall. We spoke to my parents after lunch and then had a quick nap prior to heading out again.

“I never want summer to end.” I knew I sounded a bit petulant, but fall’s looming presence had me dreading going back to school.

“Me neither,” he sighed, kissing the top of my head. He unhooked his arm from mine to instead wrap his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Hopefully our schedules will line up this year.” 

“Hopefully. I can’t stand the thought of not having time with you.” 

“I’ll always make time for you, Elio. Always.”

As soon as we arrived at Pat and Amanda’s, Kate toddled over to the door and threw her arms around Oliver’s legs. He immediately scooped her up and started cooing at her, laughing as she tugged on his hair and nose.

“Hey,” I greeted both Amanda and Pat with hugs before slipping out of my shoes, “is there anything we can help with?”

“Not a single thing,” Amanda said, rubbing a hand over her belly. “We’re going to head up to the roof deck for drinks and appetizers.”

I helped Pat with a tray of food as he carried up a bottle of wine. Oliver handled Kate and her toys, the toddler completely enamored with my boyfriend. She was three months shy of three years old, and she never seemed to stop moving or talking.

“Lookit my new doll,” she said as we settled in seats around a table, thrusting the doll in Oliver's face.

“Ooh, she’s very pretty. What’s her name?” 

“Broccoli Elephant,” Kate said, all confidence and poise, just like her mom and dad.  

Everyone laughed except Oliver, who abandoned his seat to sit on the floor with Kate. “That’s a great name!” He picked up a little action figure that Kate had also brought up with her. “And what about him?”

“That’s Ollie, Uncle Ollie!”

“After me?”

“Yep!”

The whole interaction was so sweet it brought tears to my eyes. I looked away and quickly blinked back my tears, my chest tightening at how natural Oliver was with her. I wished we could have babies of our own. Regardless of how many times Oliver assured me that it was okay, I still hated the fact that I couldn’t give him children. At least we had Kate and her soon to be little sibling. 

Pat and I poured the wine and Amanda prepared plates for all of us, even putting some cheese and vegetables on a plate for Kate. She insisted upon sitting on Oliver lap, refusing anyone but him. She sat there, happily swinging her legs and eating her carrots as the adults chattered away.

Once Pat, Oliver, and I finished the bottle of wine, we headed back down to the apartment to help Kate with dinner. Oliver immediately retreated to Kate’s room with her, but the little girl stopped in her tracks, hand wrapped firmly around fingers.

“Uncle Elio come too,” she demanded, reaching for me with her other hand.

“Go, we’re fine in here,” Amanda urged, patting my shoulder. 

And so I headed into Kate’s room, soon to be shared with her little sibling, to play until dinner was ready. She went straight for her chest of toys, dragging out the small children’s keyboard Oliver and I had given her a few months back.

“Play,” she said, thrusting it at me. She gave Oliver a toy drum and held onto a kazoo for herself.  

We played funny little out of tune, offbeat songs, but Kate seemed to have a good time, dancing around her room and tooting away on her kazoo.

“Alright, Ringo, Paul, and John,” Amanda said, coming in to stand in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready.” Kate ran out of her room, still blowing the kazoo. Amanda laughed and shook her head. “She’s too much. And with you two around, she doesn’t even spare us a second glance.” She sighed and rubbed her stomach. “I hope she’ll be okay when the baby comes.” 

“I’m sure she will be,” I said as I put away the instruments. “She’s such a good kid.” 

“Hey,” Oliver said, glancing over to me. I raised my brows and shrugged, not sure what he was about to say. “If you guys need a few days of rest when the baby’s here, let us know. Kate’s more than welcome to come have a sleepover.” I nodded along, fully supportive of Oliver’s idea. 

Amanda smiled and came over to kiss both our cheeks. “Thank you, we’ll probably have to take you up on that.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Now come on, Pat’s made his famous seared swordfish.”

After dinner, dessert, and another bottle of wine, Oliver and I were nearly passed out on their couch. Kate was asleep, half on Oliver’s lap, half on mine, having tired herself out with telling us all about her imaginary cat. 

“Oh, I almost forgot! The Long Island information!” She jumped up and grabbed a folder from the side table. “So, it ends up Stacey and her husband are visiting his family out in California for the next month. They said you’re more than welcome to go out and stay at their place for as long as you’d like. They’re in Greenport, right on the water, they even have a pool.” She passed Oliver the folder. “There’s so much great stuff to do out there. She faxed over some info for you guys, and if you want to make an extended trip of it, I’ve got the spare key.”

I looked over at Oliver, eyes wide. The thought of going on a mini vacation with him was so exciting it made me squirm in my seat.

“Yeah,” Oliver breathed when he caught my eyes. “Yeah, that actually sounds like a great idea.” 

“Oh, you two will have so much fun! You can rent a car, go to the wineries, go to the beach…”

Amanda’s voice faded into the background as Oliver and I stared at each other. His lips curved into a warm, easy smile which made my stomach swoop. I couldn’t wait for our little escape from the city.

We decided to head out to Long Island the last week of August. We planned on spending only a week there, but we both knew it would probably extend to a week and a half. Maybe two. We had the time and we figured we ought to make the best of it.

We rented a car and headed out early in the morning to beat the Hamptons traffic. I smashed my face up against the window as Oliver drove, watching as the city turned into the suburbs. Oliver rested his hand on my thigh as we drove, and it felt so domesticated, like we were going out to our own summer home on Long Island. It took us two and a half hours in total, and my jaw dropped when we pulled into the driveway.

“Are you sure this is it?” I asked, peering out the window at the house in front of us.

“Yep, number 75.” 

“This isn’t a house,” I murmured, “this is a fucking mansion.”

“Yep, and it’s all ours, baby.”

As soon as Oliver parked the car, I leaped out and headed to the front door as Oliver grabbed our bags from the trunk. I stuck the key in the lock and pushed the door open, entering into a pristine and gorgeously decorated foyer. 

 “Oliver,” I sighed as I took a few steps in. We both kicked off our shoes and Oliver put down our bags before we ventured any further. The house was simply stunning. It seemed to be straight out of a magazine and I couldn't believe people actually lived like this. 

“Elio,” Oliver called from the living room. I was still in the kitchen admiring the stove. “Come check this out.” 

He was standing in front of huge French doors, looking out into the backyard. I came up next to him and nearly choked. The pool was huge, lounge chairs surrounding the perimeter, with a grill and a table off to the side. Just beyond a set of stairs was the beach, right there in the backyard. 

“This is amazing,” I said, turning to Oliver. “Can you believe this place is all ours?”

“Come on, let’s go unpack.”

 We found the master bedroom and then what we assumed to be Stacey’s daughter’s bedroom before we found the guest room. We didn’t feel all too comfortable staying in the master, so we kipped up in the guest room. Not that it was anything paltry by any means. There was an ensuite bathroom, a king sized bed, a view of the water. As soon as our clothes were put away, I tossed Oliver a pair of swim trunks and got into my own. 

“Pool. Now.” 

“We should probably head to the grocery store,” Oliver said, but he was already pulling on his trunks. They were the red pair, which had grown even tighter on him since our summer in Italy.

“We can do that when the sun’s not out.” I reached for Oliver and he took my hand, kissing over the back of it before pulling me close. 

“You’re right. Pool.” 

We took the cover off the pool, revealing perfectly clean blue water. As soon as it was off, I tossed my sunglasses onto a lounge chair and jumped in, loving the way the cool, refreshing water surrounded me. Oliver jumped in a moment later and I immediately latched onto his back, making him carry me around the pool for a bit. When he got tired of that, which was pretty damn fast, he pushed me up against the side of the pool and kissed me until I could barely breathe.

After drying off in the sun, we headed into town to pick up groceries for our stay -- bottles of wine, beer, meat for the grill, sandwich supplies for lunches on the beach. I was mystified by the clientele, the gorgeous older women with their dyed hair and fake nails and perfect clothes. They reminded me a bit of Daniel’s mother, and I walked closer to Oliver as we scanned the aisles.

We cooked an early dinner of steak that night, and I lounged by the side of the pool and watched the sun sink low in the sky as Oliver seared the steak on the grill and roasted some vegetables. When he took the meat off, I poured two glasses of wine and joined him at the table.

“This looks fantastic,” I said as he plated our meals. I sat down and Oliver even went so far as to push my chair in for me. I looked up with a smile and he kissed it right off my face. 

“Love you, Elio.” 

Dinner was a lovely affair. Just the two of us, the sounds of the ocean, and the sunset. Once we finished the bottle of wine, Oliver took my hand and pulled me up.

“Oliver,” I sighed as he pulled me against his chest, “the dishes -”

“We’ll take care if it later,” he murmured as he kissed over my cheek and down my neck.

 “Later,” I agreed, letting him sweep me up to the bedroom. He laid me out on the bed, undressing me slowly and kissing over each bit of newly exposed skin. I felt so loved, so revered, that it sent shivers down my spine.

“You okay?” Oliver asked as goosebumps rose up over my skin. 

“Yeah, just love you.” My voice was shaky and I tried to take a steady breath. 

Oliver smiled up at me from his spot by my hip. He kissed the protruding bone and then nuzzled my tummy. “My love for you,” he said, kissing along the waistband of my boxers, “knows no bounds, Elio.” He nipped the opposite hipbone. I whined and squirmed, spreading my legs a little. “Needy tonight, aren’t we?” 

“For you? Always.” 

“Always,” he repeated as he pulled my boxers down and off. He left me there, naked and trembling on the bed, as he undressed and grabbed lube from his bag. “I’m coming right back,” he said as I let out a desperate whine. “Just be patient, Elio.”

He did indeed come back in just a few moments, easily sliding between my spread legs and laying on top of me. “How do you want it, Elio?”

“Just like this,” I said, wrapping my legs around him to keep him in place. “I want to see you. Watch you while you come inside me.” 

“Jesus Christ.”

I knew that would kick Oliver into action, and so it did. He lubed up his fingers and slid them between my legs, easily finding my hole. He pressed one in, slow and smooth, watching me carefully.

“I’m not going to break,” I said, wriggling my hips a little. 

“I know. But I want to savor you.”

My cheeks flushed and I turned my head on the pillow, looking away. 

“Hey, Oliver said as he moved his finger. He added a second and I groaned. “I thought you wanted to look at me.” He nudged my pink cheek with his nose. “Lemme see those pretty eyes, Elio.” 

I turned my head again, blinking up at Oliver, my sweet Oliver, as he opened me up with deft fingers. He did so for a few more moments before he lubed up his cock. “Are you ready for me?” I nodded but he shook his head. “I want to hear you. C’mon, Elio, why so shy tonight?”

I shrugged and reached up, pulling at Oliver’s hair until he leaned down and kissed me. I loved having his attention, but I sometimes felt like it was undeserved. Or that I didn’t reciprocate often enough. As I kissed him, I silently promised to worship him during our little getaway, to make him feel just as loved as I did. 

“I want you,” I panted when Oliver pulled back. “I’m ready. I need you, Oliver, please.”

Oliver laughed and pecked my lips. “There’s my boy.” He reached between us to help guide his cock inside me and I arched my back to meet him. Once he bottomed out, he grabbed onto my hips, keeping me still. “You’re so gorgeous like this,” he said, eyes roving over my body. “Flushed and panting and so fucking _needy_. So desperate for something only I can give you."  

“Only you, Oliver,” I gasped as he began to thrust his hips. “It’s only ever been you. No one else. There’s no one else for me.”

“Gonna marry you one day, Elio...Oliver.”

And _oh_ , that was new. We’d always skated around the subject, cracked jokes, or talked about it in not so many words. But there it was, on the table. And my heart soared. “Marry me, Elio,” I managed to whisper as Oliver buried himself inside me. 

“I will. We’re gonna, I swear.”

“Touch me, Oliver,” I pleaded, my voice high.

He ducked his head and began sucking at my neck, surely leaving marks behind as he snuck one hand between us. I groaned out when he wrapped his fingers around me, my precome already making his hand slick. We moved against one another, totally in tandem, getting one another off. It didn’t take long for us to come. I shot over my tummy and Oliver’s hand. He spilled inside of me, pressing his cock so deep I was sure his come would bubble up my throat.

“God,” I choked, wrapping my legs tight around him so that he’d stay. “I love it when you come like that, so fucking deep.”

He laughed and kissed up my sweaty neck to my ear. “All for you,” he growled with another roll of his hips. I cried out, my body shaking with oversensitivity. But I fucking loved it. Loved the way he pushed his come deeper inside of me.

We stayed like that until Oliver grew soft and we had no choice but to separate. I wanted to just pass out right there, but Oliver insisted we clean up and brush our teeth. I contemplated throwing a bit of a fit, but did as I was told, figuring it was best to start our vacation off right.  

Once we were back under the covers, Oliver grabbed me and pulled me real close. He buried his nose in my hair and I pressed my own nose against his neck. We wrapped our arms around each other, winding into a pretzel of limbs. 

“Oliver,” I sighed happily, snuggling impossibly closer. He started laughing and I bit his neck, right next to his Star of David. “Hey, what’s so funny?"

“Nothing, I...I just can’t believe this is real. That you’re real. That this is where we ended up.”

“Well, you better believe it,” I purred, already sleepy from our previous activities, “because I’m not going anywhere.”

“And I don’t want you to, Elio. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’ve made me a better man.”

“Impossible.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “You are already the best man I’ll ever know.”

“My sweet Elio.” He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my shoulder. I loved when he did that, his warm, strong hands gently working my muscles. “My precious Elio. I’m so thankful for you. So beyond happy that this is where I ended up. Right here, in this bed, with you.”

I smiled against Oliver’s chest and nuzzled against the thick hair there. “Right here with you,” I responded, kissing along his chest until I dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been ages. I've been so dang busy. But please know I will never abandon this work. I've got SO much more coming for you guys. Aside from that, I started writing this in January 2018 right after I saw CMBYN the first time in order to cope with the pain, so this whole series is like my baby. Anyway, comments/kudos/thoughts etc. always welcome. Love ya & thanks for reading!! xx


	6. O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a week shy of 2 months, I give you the next chapter of Make Me Immortal. You'll have to forgive my tardiness on all chapters as of late; I've been busy busy busy and I wish there were more hours in the day! To make up for it, here's a bunch of smut and our boys being adorable as always.  
> Hope you enjoy!

The next morning, I woke up to Oliver’s mouth around my cock. I’d slept like the dead that night, our road trip having knocked me out. Oliver was gently lapping over my skin, his tongue trailing patterns over my stiffening cock.

“Fuck,” I groaned out, my voice gravelly with sleep. I looked down at him blearily, the early morning sun streaming through the windows turning his hair a lovely shade of yellow. I reached down and slipped my fingers into those soft strands. They were warm from the sun and he hummed as I scratched at his scalp. 

“Morning,” he whispered before wrapping his lips around the head of my cock and sinking down.

I groaned and pulled his hair. “You spoil me.”

He worked slow and soft, keeping his movements gentle as he touched and sucked and licked and hummed. I was coming in a matter of minutes, arching my back and grunting as I spilled into Oliver’s mouth. 

“Will you let me,” he started as he rolled me onto my stomach. I went easily, my limbs still heavy with sleep and satisfaction. I assumed he was going to start in with the lube, but Oliver slid his cock between my closed thighs.

 _Ah,_ I thought with a satisfied smile, _so he wants intercrural today._ I squeezed my legs together as best I could with Oliver on top of me and he groaned as he thrust down.

“God, I love you,” Oliver sighed against my neck. I shivered and gripped the sheets hard as Oliver’s dick slid between my thighs. “I love you so _fucking_ much.”

“Elio,” I whispered as Oliver grabbed my hand. 

“Oliver.” 

Oliver pulled back just a little so that he could thrust up between my cheeks as he came, spilling over my hole. I groaned and wiggled my hips.

“What? Don’t wanna fuck me anymore?”

Oliver laughed and collapsed on top of me, dick still hard and twitching between my legs. “No. Just wanted you _now_.” He kissed over the back of my neck before pushing up. He spread my cheeks and rubbed his thumb through the mess, gently pressing the pad of his come-covered finger into my hole. 

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you love it.”

We showered and packed a bag for the beach, making sure to grab enough snacks, beer, and water to last us well into the afternoon. We trekked out to the beach, the sand hitting our toes just off the little boardwalk off the backyard.

“Oh, Oliver,” I sighed as he set up beach towels for us. I squinted against the sun as I took in the sights around us. There was a family further down the beach, a little girl in a pink swimsuit toddling in and out of the water. I saw a dog running circles around his owner, a huge branch trapped in its mouth. And then there was Oliver, wrapping his arms around me.

“Oliver,” I said, pushing at his arm, “stop it, someone might see.”

“I don't care,” he purred against my neck. “We don't know anyone here. And we're on vacation. I want to enjoy my time off with my boyfriend.”

I giggled and relaxed a bit in his arms. “You're too good to me,” I whispered. He held me for a moment longer before grabbing sunblock from his bag.

“We can't have you getting all burnt,” he said as he slathered the lotion all over my shoulders and back.

I pouted and huffed. “But I wanna get a tan!”

“Yeah, well when you're sunburnt and too sore to get fucked into the mattress, don't come crying to me.”

I put up with Oliver as he coated me in sunscreen, only arguing for a second when he barely put any on his own skin. Before I could further protest, Oliver pulled me down onto the beach blanket over the warm sand.

“Shut up and read to me,” he demanded. He tossed me a book before making himself comfortable on his back, only wearing his sunglasses and his trunks, the fabric of which were riding up his thick thighs to expose pale skin which I knew would be tanned by the early afternoon.

I scoffed and picked up the book that landed on my chest. He’d brought along _An Ethiopian Romance_ by Heliodorus. I secured my sunglasses on the bridge of my nose and cleared my throat before starting to read.

“Day had begun to smile and the sun was shining upon the hilltops when a band of armed pirates scaled the mountain which extends to the mouth of the Nile called the Heracleot, where it empties into the sea. They halted for a little to survey the waters which stretched before them. Out at sea, where they first directed their attention, not a sail was stirring to whet the pirates’ appetite for plunder; but when they turned to look at the coastline nearby their eyes encountered a strange spectacle.”

I continued reading well into the afternoon, about the beautiful maiden crowned with a laurel, lamenting the death of her young lover, of the pirates plundering the riches of the Egyptian beach. I only stopped when Oliver sat up to grab a bag of chips and two beers from our beach bag. We ate quietly, sitting close to one another as we dipped our hands into our shared chip bag and took swigs of beer. We took a little nap in the sun after our snack and when Oliver finally woke, he shook me awake as well.

“Stop bothering me.” I groaned and tried to roll away from him but he grabbed me around the hips.

“Come swimming with me,” he murmured against my ear, voice soft and sweet as honey. “I wanna make out with you in the water.”

I groaned for an entirely different reason and gently shoved at Oliver before standing. We made our way down to the shore, dipping our toes into the chilly water. Oliver and I slowly waded in, the hot sun easing our way into the ocean. Once I was waist deep in the water, I turned to face the sand, purveying the beach. There was barely anyone out and I shook my head, wondering why, even on such a private beach, people wouldn’t want to take advantage of this every single day. Before I could muse any further, Oliver jumped me, pulling me under a small crest of a wave.

I came up spluttering and shook out my curls. “Hey!” I cried out, shoving at Oliver’s chest. Oliver was laughing hysterically and I lunged at him, trying to get his head below the water. We play-fought for a bit, wrestling against the waves before Oliver finally calmed down enough to kiss me. We waded further into the water, shallow enough so Oliver could still stand but deep enough that I had to cling to him beneath the water’s surface.

“I love you, Oliver,” he whispered, pressing his forehead and nose against mine.

I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply, Oliver’s scent mixing with the salty water. “Elio, Elio, Elio.”

We stayed in the water until we were both pruney and hungry. We trudged up to our towels and quickly dried off before heading back into the house for lunch. I took a dip in the pool as Oliver grilled hamburgers and we ate with our legs dangling off the edge of the pool. I watched our feet beneath the cool, clear water, even nudging Oliver’s toes with mine every so often.

“What do you say we shower and then go into town for a bit,” Oliver suggested after finishing his second burger. “We can check out some shops and have a late dinner somewhere.”

I sighed happily and leaned against him, my eyes slipping closed. “Will you fuck me before we go out?”

Oliver laughed and kissed the top of my head. “Of course I will.”

As soon as we were in the shower, Oliver had me pressed up against the tile. He dropped to the floor and spread my cheeks, licking up the center.

“Ollie,” I whimpered, trying to find something to hold onto. “Let me wash up first.”

“Shh.” Oliver then buried his face in my ass, licking me open with broad strokes of his tongue.

I cried out and reached behind me, using one hand to pull Oliver’s hair and push him further against my heated skin. I tried clutching at the wall with the other, my fingers slipping on the cool tile. Oliver pushed his tongue into my hole just as I arched my back, our moment of passion in perfect unison as always. He continued to eat me out until I was just on the edge of coming. He pulled back and nipped my ass, pressing his cock against me when he stood.

“I want to fuck you,” he said, reaching over for the valve.

“I haven’t even washed my hair yet!” Oliver groaned but didn’t turn off the water. “That’s what you get for eating me out before I’ve cleaned up.”

I spun on my heel and grabbed the shampoo, sticking my tongue out at Oliver. We washed quickly, neither of our erections flagging for long. As soon as we tumbled onto our bed, clean and dry, Oliver was reaching for the lube. Meanwhile, I rolled onto my stomach and pushed up onto my hands and knees. 

“No fingers,” I panted out as I dropped onto my elbows and pushed my ass out. “Just fuck me, Elio.”

“Fuck…”

I heard the _snap_ of the bottle and the next thing I knew, Oliver was pushing into me. It burned and was a bit painful, mainly from the lack of proper preparation, but I loved every aching second of it.

“That’s it, baby,” Oliver cooed. He wrapped his hands around my hips and squeezed as he bottomed out. “So good for me.”

He set a fast pace, fucking into me hard. I cried out and stretched down over the pillows, reaching my hands out in order to grab onto the headboard. I loved when he fucked me like that: hard, fast, each of us grunting at the slick slide of his cock inside of me. My own cock was hard and aching to be touched, but I held off, wanting Oliver to come inside me first. I clenched my hole around him, pushing my ass back into his hands.

“Want your come in me,” I said through gasps for air. “Please, Ol. Fill me up.”

“Jesus Christ,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward so hard that the headboard banged against the wall. I could feel him coming, warmth filling me and seemingly spreading through my entire body. I shivered and closed my eyes, letting my arms drop to the pillows. I rested my forehead in my arms, effectively holding my ass high up in the air. When Oliver finally pulled out, I tensed up a bit, not wanting any of him to leak out.

“C’mere,” he said, tapping my thigh in an attempt to get me to roll over.

I shook my head and wiggled my ass. “Can you get my plug? It’s in my suitcase, top compartment."

“Fuck, Elio,” came his whispered reply. I smiled into the crook of my elbow as he rolled off the bed. I could hear him pad across the hardwood floors and unzip my suitcase. Just a moment later, the bed dipped as he climbed back on. I gasped when I felt the cool tip of the plug against my hole. “You trying to kill me?” he asked, parting my cheeks with one hand on my ass.

“I dunno what you mean,” I said innocently, preening under his touch.

“You know what this does to me.” He slid the plug in with that, using just a bit of force to get the widest part in before my hole closed around it. He pushed on the base and I groaned, now desperate to come.

“Please,” I sobbed as he wiggled the plug. “Please, Oliver.”

“What do you need, baby?”

“I need to come.”

“That’s it, good boy.” When he tried to roll me over again, I went easily, flopping onto my back. He kissed me swiftly before taking my cock in his mouth and nudging my thighs apart with a hand. His fingers found the plug immediately and he pressed on the base as he sucked me off. That had me coming in minutes, pulling at his hair as I spilled down his throat.

Oliver was grinning as he kissed back up my body. I laughed and he nipped at my nose. “What are you laughing at?” he asked, voice low and rumbly. 

“You,” I shot back. I carded my fingers through his hair before pulling at it.

“How long you plan on keeping that plug in? Because I’d still like to go into town.” 

I shrugged. “I just have to get dressed and then we can go.” 

Oliver huffed. “So why even put it in in the first place?” I smirked and cocked a brow, watching as the realization spread over Oliver’s face. “ _Oh_ ,” he whispered, eyes wide. “Oh.” 

I’d only ever worn the plug to sleep or around the house, never having ventured out with it before. But tonight I wanted to. I wanted to go out knowing that Oliver was still inside me. “Can...will you let me wear it out?”

“Of course,” Oliver said in a rush. He leaned down to kiss me and pushed my still damp hair off my forehead. “Of course you can wear it out. I _want_ you to.” I beamed up at him and he returned the smile, opting to kiss me for a while instead of getting out of bed just yet.

Once we finally made it into town, it was nearing 4 pm. The little main street in town was dotted with antique shops, bakeries, and bookshops. People were out with their children and dogs. The breeze off the water brought with it the salty smell of the ocean. It was the perfect picture of an American summer. Oliver and I spent some time wandering around, stepping into small stores and making a few purchases. I convinced him to buy an early 1900s piano baby from an antique store for the new piano at our apartment.

When we were in the third bookshop of the afternoon, Oliver got lost in the stacks of philosophy books. I took a peek at the historical fiction and music selections before creeping over to Oliver, grateful that the books he was perusing were in a more secluded area.

“Hi,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around him from behind. I rested my head on his back and closed my eyes, inhaling his scent. His shirt was a bit damp with sweat, but I loved it and I pushed my nose further into the fabric.

Oliver _hmm_ ed and picked up yet another book. “How’s that plug feeling?” he asked a few seconds later.

I shivered, my hole fluttering around the plug in my ass. “Good,” I said quietly, my voice muffled against his shirt. It was another minute before Oliver turned around and gathered me up into his arms. “Elio,” I sighed as I pressed my face against his chest. His shirt was even wetter there, his hair chest causing more perspiration.

“Oliver,” he responded, kissing the top of my head. He hummed. “Your hair is hot.”

“Gets like that in the summer. ‘Cause it’s so dark." 

“I know.” Oliver nuzzled my curls and kissed my head again. “I know, baby.”

I clutched at his back, wanting to sink into his skin. He knew. He knew everything about me. Knew every last detail of each of my living seconds. “Do you know that I love you?”

“I know that, too.” Oliver patted my back and, with another kiss to my hair, pulled back. “You feeling okay? Or do you want to go back, get that out?”

I shook my head immediately. “No, I feel fine.” I smiled dopily up at him. It was true, I did indeed feel fine. More than fine. I loved the feeling of the plug moving inside me whenever I walked or sat. It was a constant reminder of Oliver, a constant reminder that he was still inside me.

Oliver laughed and kissed my forehead. “Alright, I’m just gonna get this book and then we can find dinner, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, trailing behind him to the cashier like a lost puppy. 

We ended up at a restaurant with outdoor seating on the dock, a perfect place to watch the sunset over the ocean. We sat side by side, facing the water as we poured our first glasses of the bottle of white wine Oliver had picked out for us.

“Cheers,” Oliver said, holding up his glass, “to the start of a wonderful vacation.”

I clinked my glass against his and then took a sip, sighing happily at the taste of the cool liquid. We ordered lobster and shrimp and oysters and even a small side of crabcakes, indulging in all the fresh seafood the restaurant had to offer. It was a fantastic meal, topped off with a molten chocolate cake for dessert just as the sun was sinking below the horizon.

The drive back to the house was quiet, and as soon as we were inside, Oliver was tugging me over to the couch. “I wanna fuck you right here,” he said as he pulled his shirt off.

“Here? On the couch?”

“Yes,” Oliver interrupted, now shucking his shorts. “Right fucking here, Elio.”

I grinned and took off my own clothes. I kneeled on the cushions and draped my front half over the back of the couch and pushing my ass out a bit. “How’s the plug look?” I asked.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” I didn’t have to wait long at all before Oliver was tugging on the base. “Hold it all in, baby,” he instructed. But he didn’t have to tell me twice. I arched my back as he pulled the plug free, tightening my hole and my abdomen to keep his come inside me. “Gorgeous.” He rubbed the head of his cock over my hole and then dipped it in. “Good job, baby.”

“Please.” Just as soon as the word was out of my mouth, Oliver was sliding home, his dick making an obscene squelching sound as he plunged in. It was painful for a moment, considering he hadn’t lubed up, but I quickly remembered that he’d be using his leftover come as lube and I shivered.

We didn’t talk as he fucked me, just the sound of his balls slapping against my skin and our mixed grunts filled the silence of the living room. His hands were big and strong around my sides. It took me by surprise when he came, as he usually warned me or gave me some sort of notice. I could feel him filling me all over again, and I whimpered as he pulled out and pushed the come dripping out back into my hole. Once he did so, I felt the cool tip of the plug against my warm skin. He pushed it in after I nodded my head, signaling that I was ready. 

“Oliver,” I pleaded, “so hard…”

“Wait a bit for me, baby,” he said, reaching around to grab the base of my cock. “I want to fuck you again before we go to bed.

I whined and hung my head, willing my erection away. I wanted to come, I was desperate for it, but Oliver wanted me to wait. And I was willing to do anything for him. Once I was finally off the edge, less desperate but no less keyed up, we went out for a quick dip in the pool. We were both nude, just the pool light illuminating our way. Our bodies cast grotesque shadows over the water’s surface and the sides of the pool, and I swam in circles, tracking the distorted shapes of our arms and legs. Oliver finally stilled me, grabbing my arm and pulling me close to him.

“I don’t want the school year to start again,” he said against my neck as he held me.

“Me neither.” I rubbed at the back of his neck, scritching at the damp hair on his nape. “I love having summers with you. Just the two of us.”

“Plus the occasional visitor,” he said, reminding me of Marzia’s visit. 

I laughed and nodded. “Yes, that too.”

“We should go to Milan this winter,” Oliver suggested. “Maybe over Christmas break.”

“That would be nice. We could bring back some of the latest fashion for Jeffrey.” I closed my eyes and listened to the night around us, the cicadas humming, the pool filter whirring, the waves distantly crashing on the shore. “And maybe we can go to Crema again next summer.”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

“When my parents die,” I started, my heart clenching at that thought. I swallowed back any threatening tears.

“Elio, don’t." 

“No, Oliver. When my parents die, I’ll inherit that house.” I shivered at the thought of that big old mansion without the vivacity of my parents. “We can keep it. We can have our own summer interns there.” _And the apartment in Milan_ , I thought to myself. Would I really want to move back to Italy full time? Would Oliver and I ever leave New York?

“Like me.”

“Yes, like you.”

“But we won’t have any children for them to fall in love with.”

I smiled and shrugged. “I think that’s okay.” There would be enough love in that house with just the two of us. 

“Well, hopefully, that’s a long way off.”

“Yes, hopefully." 

“Bedroom?” he asked. I nodded.

We trudged out of the pool and took turns using a towel to dry each other off. We stumbled after one another in the dark into the house and up the stairs.

“I want you on top,” Oliver said as he laid down on the bed.

I clambered up after him, watching his dick slowly fill against his thigh. I straddled his hips, my own cock hardening almost instantly.

“Someone’s excited,” Oliver remarked. 

“Fuck you. You’re the one that didn’t let me come before."

Oliver smirked as he reached between my legs to toy with the plug. “Ready for your third load, baby?”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t let it go. Wanna fuck it into you.”

I leaned forward, bracing myself with my hands planted on either side of Oliver’s head. He slowly worked the plug free and I felt a bit of come drip out. “ ‘m sorry.” My voice was weak and shaking.

“That’s okay.” I felt his finger inside me and I assumed he was working the come back inside my hole. Oliver then lined himself up, his hands moving to my hips, helping me sink down on his cock for the third time that day.

“Ooh, _fuck_.” Once Oliver was fully sheathed, I sat up, letting Oliver take my weight as I settled on his pubic bone. I rolled my hips, the two of us groaning in unison. His hands settled on my thighs, large fingers and palms spread over the expanse of skin. I finally opened my eyes and looked down, smiling at the contrast in color between our skin. Even after time out in the sun, I was still so much paler than Oliver, and I silently cursed my Northern Italian heritage.

“Beautiful,” Oliver praised as I started to move. “You’re beautiful, Elio.” His eyes trailed from my balls up to my face and he smiled at me. I loved his teeth. They were white and straight and perfect, his canines dipping below his incisors into sharp points. I loved when he smiled like that, relaxed and easy, eyes crinkling.

I smiled back, letting my curls fall into my eyes as I ducked my head. 

“You need a haircut,” he said as I lifted up and then sunk back down.

“So many comments about my hair today, Mr. Stern.”

“Just trying to keep you in check, Mr. Perlman.”

We laughed and he tightened his grip around my thighs, his fingers digging into my flesh, seeking out the muscles as I moved over him. I braced my own hands on his chest, my fingers buried in his chest hair or occasionally sweeping over a nipple.

“God, Elio,” he said, “you’re so fucking tight. So good for me.”

I blushed at the praise but was proud that I could make Oliver feel so good. “Touch me.”

He did so, wrapping his long fingers around me. I looked down, watching as my cock moved in and out of his fist as I rode him. We were both breathing heavily, whispering words of love between moans of lust. It was electric when he came in me, adding to his two previous loads. I closed my eyes tight, settling heavily on top of him as he pulsed inside me. Oliver brought me off with three quick strokes and I cried out as I spilled over his stomach. Spurt after spurt, I covered Oliver’s abdomen, not opening my eyes until Oliver tapped my side. I looked down and I took a shuddering breath.

“Worth the wait?”

“Fuck, yeah.” I slowly lifted off of him and was about to go into the bathroom when Oliver grabbed my sides, keeping me right there. “Oliver, c’mon, I gotta -”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, tugging me forward. I had to spread my legs more to accommodate the width of his ribs. Once he got me where he wanted, he reached around and spread my cheeks. I tensed up and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment as some of his come accidentally dropped out of my hole. He made an amazed little sound and I closed my eyes tight and tried to control myself. "It's okay," Oliver whispered in an effort to calm me down. "I've got you, it's okay. Let it go for me, baby. Come on." I whined as I relaxed just a little bit. I immediately felt Oliver's load start to slip out again. 'God, that's so fucking hot."

I opened my eyes only to find Oliver looking up at me with utmost adoration. Encouraged by Oliver's placations and enthusiasm, I pushed a little more out, grinning as Oliver looked between my legs at the mess on his stomach. I sat back once I was at ease and the self-consciousness ebbed away, both of us now looking at our come, only distinguishable by my uneven spurts and the globs of Oliver’s. Without a word, both of us brought our fingers to the mess, mixing our come together. I thought of our DNA mixing, the two separate parts of ourselves. I thought of our ancestors. 

They say all living humans descended in an unbroken line purely through their mothers, and through the mothers of those mothers, back until all lines converge on one woman. As we blended our come together, I imagined both our bloodlines growing closer together until they merged.

We were lovers. We were brothers. Father and son, friends, relatives. We were everything. 

Oliver grabbed my wrist and yanked me down for a kiss that made my chest ache. “I love you,” he murmured against my lips, between kisses. “I love you, my darling Elio.”

After relieving ourselves, quickly showering, and brushing our teeth, Oliver and I got right back into bed. I snuggled up behind him and draped my arm over his torso. I loved holding him like that: my chest against his back, an arm and leg thrown over him, keeping him in my grasp.

I woke up the next morning with such an abundant feeling of love in me. I felt so much love for the world and was just pulsing with love when I woke. I couldn't remember ever feeling so great. My dreams had been simple and happy. At one point in my dreams, I was in a car with my parents and Oliver and we were laughing happily together, the sound of church bells in the distance. 

That morning, as I lay in bed with Oliver still in my arms, I realized that over the years with Oliver, I'd learned trust and faith in love. I had trust and faith in whatever the universe brought, and I recognized my dependence on Oliver and his dependence on me, and our mutual dependence on whatever we were all part of, which was so much bigger than us.

I kissed the back of Oliver’s neck and rolled out of bed. I stretched out my limbs with a satisfied sigh before making my way to the bathroom to piss and brush my teeth. Once I came back into the bedroom, Oliver had kicked off all the covers and was on his stomach, spread out over the bed, ass on display. I grinned predatorily and climbed up onto the foot of the bed, appreciating the view as I settled on my stomach as well. I pressed tiny kisses along the swell of Oliver’s ass before reaching up and spreading his cheeks.

At the first swipe of my tongue, Oliver groaned and shifted, the sheets twisting in his wake. I groaned in appreciation and practically buried my face in Oliver’s ass. I loved eating him out. He always tasted so good, like a ripe peach ready for the taking. I licked in broad stripes before pressing my tongue inside of him, tasting that innermost part of my lover. 

Oliver whined and reached behind him, threading his fingers into my hair in order to hold my face just where it was. I had no intention of moving but loved the reassuring fingers in my curls.

“Fuck me,” he finally said into the pillows. “God, I want you inside me.”

I moved back and kissed over his ass as he tried to roll over. I growled and held him in place as best I could so I could kiss down to where his thigh met his ass. “Okay,” I said, then satisfied with my kisses. “Okay, roll over for me.”

I grabbed the lube as Oliver got situated with a pillow under his hips. I drizzled some over my fingers and Oliver huffed. “I just want _you_.”

“And you’ll get me. I need to prep you first.” I pushed a finger in, his hole already wet and slack from my tongue. Oliver was always so easy for it, so open and pliant and ready for me. I scissored two of my fingers inside fo him before slicking up my cock. “Love you,” I said as I pushed in, breaching his tight hole.

Oliver reached for me and pulled me down for a kiss as I sunk into him. He was so warm and tight around me and, for a moment, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. 

“Thank you,” I managed to grunt as I bottomed out. “Thank you for everything, Oliver.”

Our lovemaking was slow that morning, each of us taking time to draw out one another’s orgasms. We were in no rush, happy to simply be together, eking out our pleasure. Once we’d both come, I inside Oliver and Oliver over my chest, we cleaned up and headed down to the beach yet again, ready for another day in the sun.

The remaining days of our beach vacation went similarly: fucking, swimming, tanning, reading, eating. There was only one rainy afternoon which we spent cuddled up on the safety of the covered porch, watching the rain pelt down over the sea. It was a restorative week, an escape from the mundanity of city life in the summer, which seemed to revolve around finding respite from the muggy heat in an air conditioned store or coffee shop. 

On our last night on Long Island, Oliver treated me to a home cooked meal of fresh lobster, corn on the cob we’d purchased from a nearby farm stand, a lovely bottle of wine we’d picked up from a local vineyard during a tasting, and even a fresh cherry cobbler for dessert. He only let me help bake dessert, insisting that he handle the entire meal himself.

We ate out on the beach, snuggled up on our blanket as we watched the sunset. It was the perfect end to a perfect trip and while I was sad to head back to Manhattan, I was looking forward to settling back into our usual routine.

Our apartment seemed so small and cramped compared to the mansion we’d been staying at, but it was home, and Oliver kissed me as soon as we shut the door behind us. 

“We’re back,” he whispered against my lips as he held me in our living room.

I smiled and rubbed the tip of my nose against his. “We are.”

We exchanged soft kisses as we went about unpacking. Oliver brought our laundry down to the washing machines in the basement of our building while I showered and then put away our newly acquired antiques. I sighed as I placed the piano baby on top of the piano, his little cherubic face smiling up at me.

“I guess I should practice,” I lamented as I plopped down onto the piano bench.

Oliver rubbed my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. “We've had a nice break, but now it’s back to business.”

Around 5 pm on September 12th, the Friday before the semester started, Oliver tossed my black jeans and the printed Hawaiian shirt that Isaac and Mounir got for me. I was in the study shirtless, spread over the couch and looking over my book list for the semester.

“What's this about?” I asked, but I pulled the shirt on regardless.

“It's a surprise.” He was dressed in jeans and a blue tee shirt which was definitely a size too small. He looked delectable and I let my gaze wander. “Don't even think about it,” he warned, but he was smiling. “We're on a schedule.”

I grumbled as I pulled on my jeans, wondering why we didn't even have time for a quickie.  

Oliver and I took the subway all the way down to Penn Station where we ate greasy slices of pizza at a dollar slice shop.

“You took me down here for this?” I asked as we headed toward 8th Avenue. “We could have gotten pizza near us.” 

“I brought you here for that.”

I followed Oliver's arm to where he was pointing. There was a poster of Elton John hanging over one of the entrances to Madison Square Garden. He was on the New York leg of his tour. I gasped and stopped dead in my tracks and clutched at Oliver's arm.

"Oh my God, no."

"Oh my God, yes." Oliver laughed and pulled me close. "I had to keep up the tradition of taking you to a performance before school starts.

I swallowed hard as I looked up at Elton's face, people moving around us. I couldn't believe I was about to see him live. A bisexual icon whom I admired ferociously, and Daniel's favorite artist. "But we just went on that vacation," I said stupidly, still gazing up at the poster.

"So what? I wanted to treat you to something special." 

I threw my arms around Oliver and hugged him tightly, my face buried in his neck. He was so kind and generous and I loved him with all of my heart. “You’re too good to me.”

“Not as good as you are to me.” 

I bit my lower lip hard to keep from tearing up and I nuzzled into his neck. “Thank you, Oliver.”

We held hands as we walked into the venue, totally at ease with being ourselves. There were others like us there too, other gay men and women. Straight people, old people, young people. It was a truly diverse crowd and I loved that. I leaned against Oliver as we were herded into MSG. I let Oliver take care of presenting our tickets and leading us in the right direction. I was too dazed to pay much attention.

“You want anything?” he asked as we passed a concession stand. “Soda? Beer?”

I thought for a moment and then wrinkled my nose. “No. Just wanna be with you.”

Oliver and I made our way through the crowds to our seats just a few rows back from the stage. 

“This...Oliver, this is too much!” I said as we settled in. I was sure we’d barely be using our seats though, most likely abandoning them to get up and dance instead. “You didn’t have -”

Oliver shut me up with a kiss which I melted into immediately. “I _did_ have to.” I kissed him again and was practically vibrating in my seat as we watched them set up the stage.

We only had to wait another twenty or so minutes before the lights dimmed. My heart jumped into my throat when a spotlight flicked on and illuminated the stage. As soon as Elton came out, he was greeted by a chorus of yells and whoops which didn’t die down until he finished his introduction and sat down at his piano.

As he started playing the first few notes of _Tonight_ , the crowd erupted into another round of cheers, only quieting down when he started to sing. Everyone was standing up already, including me and Oliver. He had his arm draped over my shoulder and I leaned into him as we swayed to the music. I was so glad he chose that song to open with. It was a mammoth piece which really showcased his talent at the piano.

The setlist was incredible and we danced the night away, bopping along to the upbeat tunes like _The Bitch Is Back_ or swaying to the ballads like _Levon_. Elton told us a few anecdotes throughout the night, and watching him perform was an absolute dream. He was an incredible musician, even better in person, and I couldn’t get over watching his fingers fly over the piano.

“Now this next song,” Elton said into the microphone after finishing Candle In The Wind, “I wrote after reading an article in Newsweek about a Vietnam vet who had been wounded and wanted to get away from the attention he was receiving when he went back home.”

I gasped as Elton started to play the first few familiar notes of _Daniel_ and I clutched at Oliver’s arm. I gazed up at Elton as he started to sing and my chest tightened. How I wished Daniel was there with us, dancing and singing along to his favorite artist. It wasn’t fair that he was gone and, as much as I thought I’d healed, there were moments that made me miss him more than anything. I pushed my face into Oliver’s shoulder and he wrapped me up in his strong arms, holding me as the song played out. I only glanced up a few times, preferring to be tucked in the safety of Oliver’s arms.  

The final tune of the night was _Your Song_ , during which Oliver held me in his arms, my back pressed against his chest. He sang along against my ear, the two of us swaying along with the song.

When the concert ended, I quickly wiped the tears off my face before the house lights came up, hoping it was furtive enough. But Oliver saw the movement and he caught my wrist, bringing my hand to his face. He kissed over my fingertips and down to my palm, and I knew he could taste the salty wetness of my tears.

“Thank you,” I croaked, looking up at Oliver as I let the world around us drift away. People were milling about, talking animatedly about the concert as they headed toward the exits. But I ignored them and hugged Oliver until I had my fill.

“That was amazing,” I said later that night when we finally got home. We talked about the concert nonstop on the way back to the apartment, discussing our favorite songs or outfits, since Elton of course rocked some pretty campy looks. I grabbed Daniel’s faded Elton John tee from the dresser and slipped it over my head. I tossed my jeans and shirt into the laundry basket and then flopped onto our bed.  

“It was,” Oliver agreed as he got into bed as well. He was usually such a stickler for brushing our teeth, but I could tell he’d let it slide just for tonight. “I take it you had a good time, then?”

I hummed and rolled into him, headbutting his shoulder. “Of course I did. Thank you.” I sighed and pushed my face against his arm. “I just wish Daniel could have been there.”

“I know,” Oliver whispered. He had a hand in my hair, soothingly stroking my curls. “He would have loved it.” 

I nodded, not trusting my own voice. I bit my lip and tried to hold them back, but the tears flowed and I curled further in on myself until I was in a little ball against Oliver’s side. “I miss him,” I finally got out between soft sobs. 

“I do too.” Oliver hugged me closer and rubbed soothing circles over my back. “We should call Jeffrey next week. See when we can start coming back to the shelter regularly considering our class schedules.”

I nodded. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Oliver agreed. “It’s not fair, which is why we need to help our brothers and sisters.” I nodded again and Oliver reached down, managing to grasp under my chin so I could look up at him. “You did so much for Daniel, and I know he was incredibly grateful for that. He loved you very much, Elio.” I shrugged and sniffled. “No, come on, baby,” Oliver continued. “You know he loved you.”

I whimpered as fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. “I couldn’t do enough for him. I loved him, but I couldn’t save him.”

“No one could,” Oliver said, “but you helped him so much. You were there for him when no one else was. You are so _good_ , Elio.”

I wiped my eyes and shoved my face into Oliver’s chest once again, letting the sound of Oliver’s heartbeat lull me to sleep.

Oliver and I both started our school years on September 15th, 1986. I was starting my junior year of college and Oliver was headed back to his teaching gig at Columbia. I had classes on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, while Oliver was stuck with Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, _and_ Fridays. We at least had Wednesdays off together, and he only taught until noon on Fridays.  

My first day back at Juilliard was fantastic. I caught up with all of my friends as we navigated the halls to our respective classes. I had fantastic professors that semester, of course, included Professor Kuznetsov. Everyone knew I’d been accepted to the Chopin Competition, so most of my day was spent receiving congratulatory pats on the back.  

By the time I got home that afternoon, I was exhausted but excited, ready for my next school year in New York. Oliver still wasn’t home yet, so I had a quick snack before settling myself on the piano bench. I sighed as I warmed up with scales and arpeggios, but I knew practicing was incredibly important. The competition was regarded as one of the most important venues for creating important international pianist careers.

I looked up at the little calendar perched on top of the piano. I had just under a month before I headed off to Warsaw. I was excited for the competition. I’d meet other young pianists, my parents were coming, and even Oliver had plans to come over for part of the competition. But on top of my excitement, I was nervous. It was my first international competition, and an important one at that. After finishing my warmups, I stretched my back and set to work on the pieces I’d picked for the competition.

Oliver came home a few hours later, laden with grocery bags. He simply kissed the top of my head as he walked by, not wanting to disturb my practicing. He cooked dinner while I played and I only stopped once Oliver called me for dinner.

“That sounded incredible.” Oliver grabbed me around the waist before I could sit down at the table. I yelped, but relaxed into his embrace, resting my hands against his chest.

I giggled and looked up at him from under my lashes. “Incredible enough for me to win a prize?” I asked, keeping my voice light and teasing. 

Oliver leaned down so he could kiss and nip over my neck. I whimpered and tilted my head back. “If dinner wasn’t hot and on the table,” he growled against my throat, “I’d give you your prize right now.”

“You know,” I managed, my breath hitching as Oliver bit at my Adam’s apple, “we _do_ have a microwave. Besides, I’m hungry for something else right now.” I slipped a hand between us and squeezed his crotch.

Oliver licked up my throat, nipped my jaw, and then tossed me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, tickling me as soon as he dropped me on the bed. Our dinner sat forgotten on the kitchen table, only to be eaten only after our other hunger had been satiated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't heard of a piano baby, do a Google search. It's worth it.  
> A note about Elton: He came out as bi in 1976. It wasn't until 1992 that he told Rolling Stone Magazine that he was "quite comfortable about being gay."
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Kudos, Comments, Thoughts, Questions, Ideas -- all are appreciated! Moment's Sunlight will be the next to update :) XOXO


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